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ORION 






AN EPIC POEM 



In CJree Soohs 



By R IT HORN E 



FIFTH BDITIuN 



LONDON 

J. MILLER 404 OXFORD STREET 
MDccexi.in 

Price Half-a-Crown 

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NOTE TO THE FIFTH EDITION. 

This Edition is precisely the same work as that which was originally 
published at One Farthing. There are a few slight revisions and transposi- 
tions, and the interpolation of some twenty lines in Book III. It was not 
without regret that I felt myself bound (for an author owes a duty to his work) 
to make even these few variations between the First Edition and the present. 

R. H. H. 




©lEIKDIf, 



NOTE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 

I have adopted the Greek mythological names throughout this poem, with 
a view of getting rid of commonizing associations. It has become an arduous, if not 
impossible task for the popular imagination to rise up to the purely poetic conception 
of such abstractions as a Juno, a Neptune, a Diana, amidst all the perverting 
associations with which they are now surrounded. As to such a change being more 
correct in writing from aB old Greek fable, there can hardly be two opinions. The 
gods and goddesses of ancient Italy were perfectly distinct from those of ancient 
Greece, although certain prominent attributes existed in common between the 
Jupiter of the Romans, and Zeus of the Greeks; between Diana and Artemis; 
between Vulcan, and Hephsestos; Neptune, and Poseidon, &c. It has been my object 
to create new associations, founded upon those of the antique age which are the most 
purely poetical and suggestive. With this view, the names are of no great importaace 
to those who do not recognise them classically, and I trust that my fable would be 
perfectly intelligible to all classes of readers, by whatever names the characters were 
designated. Meantime, the design of thi9 poem of " Orion" is far from being intended 
as a mere echo or reflection of the Past, and is in itself, and in other respects, a novel 
experiment upon the mind of a nation. 

R. H. H. 



©RlOIfc 



Canta tfjr $iv*t. 



Ye rocky heights of Chios, where the snow, 

Lit by the far-off and receding moon, 

Now feels the soft dawn's purpling twilight creep 

Over your ridges, while the singing dews, 

Like creatures on a mission from the spheres, 

Swarm down, and wait to be instinct with gold 

And solar fire ! — ye mountains waving brown 

With thick-winged woods, and blotted with deep caves 

In secret places ; and ye paths that stray 

E'en as ye list ; what odours and what sighs 

Tend your sweet silence through the star- showered night, 

Like memories breathing of the Goddess forms 

That left your haunts, yet with the day return ! 



ORION. [book i. 

And still more distant through the grey sky floats 
The faint blue fragment of the dead moon's shell ; 
Not dead indeed, but vacant, since 'tis now 
Left by its bright Divinity. The snows 
On steepest heights grave tints of dawn receive. 
And mountains from the misty woodland rise 
More clear of outline, while thick vapours curl 
From off the valley streams, and spread away, 
Till one by one the brooks and pools unveil 
Their cold blue mirrors. From the great repose 
What echoes now float on the listening air — 
Now die away — and now again ascend, 
Soft ringing from the valleys, caves, and groves, 
Beyond the reddening heights? 'Tis Artemis come 
With all her buskined Nymphs and sylvan rout. 
To scare the silence and the sacred shades, 
And with dim music break their rapturous trance ! 

But soon the music swells, and as the gleam 
Of sun-rise tips the summits tremblingly, 
And the dense forests on their sides exchange 
Shadows opaque for warm transparent tones, 
Though still of depth and grandeur, nearer grows 
The revelry ; and echoes multiply 









CANTO T.] ORION. 

Behind the rocks and uplands, with the din 

Of reed-pipe, timbrel, and clear silver horns, 

With cry of Wood-nymphs, Fauns, and chasing hounds. 

Afar the hunt in vales below has sped, 
But now behind the wooded mount ascends, 
Threading its upward mazes of rough boughs, 
Mossed trunks and thickets, still invisible, 
Although its jocund music fills the air 
With cries and laughing echoes, mellowed all 
By intervening woods and the deep hills. 

The scene in front two sloping mountain sides 
Displayed ; in shadow one, and one in light. 
The loftiest on its summit now sustained 
The sun-beams, raying like a mighty wheel 
Half seen, which left the forward surface dark 
in its full breadth of shade ; the coming sun 
Hidden as yet behind : the other mount, 
Slanting transverse, swept with an eastward face, 
Catching the golden light. Now, while the peal 
Of the ascending chase told that the rout 
Still midway rent the thickets, suddenly 
Along the broad and sunny slope appeared 



ORIOX. [ B 

The shadow of a stag that fled across, 
Followed by a Giant's shadow with a spear ! 

" Hunter of Shadows, thou thyself a Shade," 
Be comforted in this, — that substance holds 
No higher attributes ; one sovran law 
Alike develops both, and each shall hunt 
Its proper object, each in turn commanding 
The primal impulse, till gaunt Time become 
A shadow cast on space, to fluctuate, 
Waiting the breath of the Creative Power 
To give new types for substance yet unknown : 
So from faint nebulae bright worlds are born ; 
So worlds return to vapour. Dreams design 
Most solid lasting things, and from the eye 
That searches life, death evermore retreats. 

The shadowy chase has vanished ; round the swell 
Of the near mountain sweeps a bounding stag — 
Round whirls a god-like Giant close behind — 
O'er a fallen trunk the stag with slippery hoofs 
Stumbles — his sleek knees lightly touch the grass — 
Upward he springs — but in his forward leap, 
The Giant's hand hath caught him fast beneath 






CANTO I.] ORION. 

One shoulder tuft, and lifted high in air, 
Sustains! Now Phoibos' chariot rising bursts 
Over the summits with a circling blaze, 
Gilding those frantic antlers, and the head 
Of that so glorious Giant in his youth, 
Who, as he turns, the form succinct beholds 
Of Artemis, — her bow, with points drawn back, 
A golden hue on her white rounded breast 
Reflecting, while the arrow's ample barb 
Gleams o'er her hand, and at his heart is aimed. 

The Giant lowered his arm — away the stag 
Breast forward plunged into a thicket near ; 
The Goddess paused, and dropt her arrow's point — ■ 
Raised it again — and then again relaxed 
Her tension, and while slow the shaft came gliding 
Over the centre of the bow, beside 
Her hand, and gently drooped, so did the knee 
Of that heroic shape do reverence 
Before the Goddess. Their clear eyes had ceased 
To flash, and gazed with earnest softening light. 

His stature, though colossal, scarcely seemed 
Beyond the heroic mould, such symmetry 



OBION. [book i. 

His form displayed ; and in his countenance 

A noble honesty and ardour beamed, 

With child-like faith, unconscious of themselves, 

And of the world, its vanities and guile. 

Eyes of deep blue, large waves of chestnut locks, 

A forehead wide, and every feature strong, 

Yet without heaviness or angry line, 

Had he ; and as he knelt, a trustful smile 

That dreads no consequence, and quite forgets 

All danger, lightly played around his mouth. 

Meanwhile the Nymphs and all the sylvan troop, 

Like wave on wave when coloured by the clouds, 

Pell-mell come rolling round the mountain side, 

And crowd around the Goddess, who commands 

The hunt to pause. At once the music stops — 

And all the hounds, with wistful looks, crouch down. 

" Young Giant of the woods," said Artemis, 
" The bow, that ne'er till now its glittering points 
Bent back without recoil and whirring twang — 
That sound a shaft's flight, and that flight a death — 
For once to its quiescent shape returns 
Unsated. 'Midst these woodland vales and heights 
Seldom I rove, but from my train, have Nymphs 



canto i.] ORION. 

Permission sought full oft to lead the chase 

Among these echoes and these fleeting shades. 

Thee have they seen, as now, bounding beyond 

Their swiftest hounds to bear the stag away, 

As thou once more hadst surely done this morn, 

But for my presence. Say, then, whence thou spring's!; ; 

Where dwell'st thou — how art called — and wherefore thus 

Dar'st thou the sports of these my Wood-nymphs mar?" 

" Goddess !" the Giant answered " I am sprung 
From the great Trident-bearer, who sustains 
And rocks the floating earth, and from the nymph — 
A huntress joying in the dreamy woods — 
Euryale. Little I use to speak, 
Save to my kindred giants, who in caves 
Amid yon forest dwell, beyond the rocks, 
Or to my Cyclop friends ; nor know I what words 
Best suit a Goddess' ear. I and the winds 
Do better hold our colloquies, when shadows, 
After long hunting, vanish from my sight 
Into some field of gloom. I am called ' Orion,' — 
And for the sports I have so often marred, 
'Twas for my own I did it, but without 
A thought of whose the Nymphs, or least design 



ORION. [book i. 

Of evil. Wherefore, Artemis, pardon me ; 
Or if again thou 'dst bend thy bow, first let me 
To great Poseidon offer up a prayer, 
That his divine waves with absorbing arms 
May take my body rather than dull earth." 

With attitude relaxed from queenly pride 
To yet more queenly grace, the shaft she placed 
Within her burnished quiver, and the bow 
A Nymph unstrung, while with averted face — 
As gazing down the woodland vista slopes, 
Which oft her bright orb silvered through black shades 
When midnight throbbed to silence — Artemis asked, 
" And who are these thy brothers of the cave, 
And why dost with the Cyclops hold consort?" 

" My wood-friends, all of ancestry renowned, 
Claim for their sires heroes, or kings, or gods ; 
And two of them have seen the ways of men ; " 
Orion answered, while with uplifted breast, 
Like a smooth wave o'ergilded by the morn, 
High heaving ere it cast itself ashore, 
Buoyant, elate, and massively erect, 
He stood. " They are my kindred thus de£ r led, 
And, though not brothers, yet we recognize 



CANTO I.] ORION. 

A sort of brotherhood in this decree 

Of fate, or Zeus, — that nature filled our frames 

With larger share of bodily elements 

Than others mortal born. Seven giants we, 

Of different minds, and destinies, and powers, 

Yet glorified alike in corporal forms. 

Few are my years, O Artemis ! few my needs, 

Though large my fancied wants, and small my knowledge, 

Save of one art. Earth's deep metallic veins 

Hephaestos taught me to refine and forge 

To shapes that in my fancy I devised, 

For use or ornament. To the lame God 

Grateful I felt, nor knew what thanks to give ; 

But, ere a shadow-hunter I became — 

A dreamer of strange dreams by day and night — 

For him I built a palace underground, 

Of iron, black and rough as his own hands. 

Deep in the groaning disembowelled earth, 

The tower-broad pillars and huge stanchions, 

And slant supporting wedges I set up, 

Aided by the Cyclops who obeyed my voice 

Which through the metal fabric rang and pealed 

In orders echoing far, like thunder-dreams. 

With a ;s, galleries, and domes all carved — 

So that great figures started from the roof 



10 ORION. [book i. 

And lofty coignes, or sat and downward gazed 
On those who strode below and gazed above — 
I filled it ; in the centre framed a hall : 
Central in that, a throne ; and for the light, 
Forged mighty hammers that should rise and fall 
On slanted rocks of granite and of flint* 
Worked by a torrent, for whose passage down 
A chasm I hewed. And here the God could take, 
Midst showery sparks and swathes of broad gold fire, 
His lone repose, lulled by the sounds he loved ; 
Or, casting back the hammer-heads till they choked 
The water's course, enjoy, if so he wished, 
Midnight tremendous, silence, and iron sleep." 

Thus in rough phrase, and with no other grace 
Than forthright truth, Orion told his tale ; 
Then smiling looked around upon the Nymphs, 
Till all their bright eyes glowed and turned aside ; 
And then he gazed down at the couchant hounds, 
Whose eyes and ears grew interrogative, 
For well the fleet-heeled robber they all knew. 

Now spake an Ocean-nymph with sea-green eyes : 
" Goddess, he hath not told thee all ; his skill 
And strength, unaided — singing as he wrought — 



I.] ORION. 11 

Scooped out the bay of Zankle, framed its port ; 

Banked up the rarnpire that forbids the surge 

To break o'er Sicily ; and a temple built 

To the sea-deities." " I had forgot ; " 

Orion said : " These things, long since, were done." 

" Hunter, I pardon thee, and from my Nymphs 
All memory of thy late offence I take, 
As though they ne'er had seen thee :" Artemis said, 
With a sweet voice and look. " Retire awhile, 
Ye sylvan troop, to yonder deep-mossed dell ; 
And thou, Orion, henceforth in my train 
Thy station take." More had the Goddess said, 
But o'er the whiteness of a neck that ne'er 
One tanned kiss from the ardent sun received, 
A soft suffusion came ; and waiting not 
Reply, her silver sandals glanced i' the rays, 
As doth a lizard playing on a hill, 
And on the spot where she that instant stood 
Nought but the bent and quivering grass was seen. 

Above the isle of Chios, night by night, 
The clear moon lingered ever on her course, 
Covering the forest foliage, where it swept 
In its unbroken breadth along the slopes, 



12 ORION. 

With placid silver ; edging leaf and trunk 

Where gloom clung deep around ; but chiefly sought 

With melancholy splendour to illume 

The dark-mouthed caverns where Orion lay 

Dreaming among his kinsmen. Ere the breath 

Of Phoibos' steeds rose from the wakening sea, 

And long before the immortal wheel-spokes cast 

Their hazy apparition up the sky 

Behind the mountain peaks, pale Artemis left 

Her fainting orb, and touched the loftiest snows 

With feet as pure, and white, and crystal cold, 

In the sweet misty woodland to rejoin 

Orion with her Nymphs. And he was blest 

In her divine smile, and his life began 

A new and higher period, nor the haunts 

Of those his giant brethren ever sought, 

But shunned them and their ways, and slept alone 

Upon a verdant rock, while o'er him floated 

The clear moon, causing music in his brain 

Until the sky -lark rose. He felt 'twas love. 



jt\5 c 



Canto tf)t Quants :. 



Midst ponderous substance had Orion's life 
Dawned, and his acts were massive as his form. 
Those his companions of the forest owned 
Like corporal forces, but their several minds 
And aims were not as his. The Worker he, 
The builder-up of things, and of himself : 
His wood-friends were Rhexergon, of descent 
Royal, heroic — breaker-down of things — 
A coaster, skilled in fishing and in ships ; — 
Autarces, arch-backed like the forest boar, 
Short-haired, harsh- voiced, of fierce and wayward will ;- 
Harpax, with large loose mouth, and restless hand, 
Son of the God of Folly by a maid 



14 ORION. 

Who cursed him — and the child, an idiot else, 
Grew keen, in rapine taking great delight ; — 
Forceful Biastor ; — smooth Encolyon, 
The son of Hermes, yet in all things slow, 
With sight oblique and forehead slanting high, 
The dull retarder, chainer of the wheel ; — 
And Akinetos — who, since first the dawn 
Sat on his marble forehead, ne'er had gazed 
Onward with purpose of activity, 
Nor felled a tree, nor hollowed out a cave, 
Nor built a roof, nor aided any work, 
Nor heaved a sigh, nor cared for anything 
Save contemplation of the eternal scheme — 
The Great Unmoved — a giant much revered. 

Forgotten by their sires in other loves, 
Here had they chiefly dwelt, and in these caves, 
Save two, Encolyon and the Great Unmoved, 
Who came from Ithaca. The islanders 
Had driven them thence ; and this the idle cause. 
The barren stony land had ne'er produced 
Enough of grain for food ; but by the skill 
Of their artificers in iron and brass, 
And by their herds of goats and cloud-woolled sheep, 



CANTO II.] ORION. 15 

With other isles the Ithacans exchanged, 

And each was well supplied. Encolyon's brain 

Some goddess — and 'twas Discord, as results 

Made plain — one night inspired with sage alarms, 

And straight the King of Ithaca he sought, 

Imploring him, " if that he duly prized 

A heaven-blest crown and subjects all content, 

To drive the ships, sent from the neighbouring isles, 

Forth from his port, or sink the grain they brought : 

Else would his people, over-fed, grow slothful, 

Rude, and importunate with new conceits, 

And soon degenerating in their race, 

Neglect their proper island, and their King. 

But, on its own resources nobly forced, 

Then would the stony Ithaca become 

Great in herself by self-dependent power." 

To this the King gave ear, and on the shore 
He, with Encolyon, for an omen prayed ; 
And soon along the horizontal line 
Rising, they saw a threatening rack of clouds, 
Black as the fleet from Aulis 'gainst doomed Troy, — 
In after-time well known. Encolyon cried 
" Behold propitious anger on the isle, 

c 2 * 



16 ORION. [book i. 

For its wrong doings !" Wherefore all the grain 

From friendly islands they, with scorn, sent back. 

A famine soon in Ithaca spread wide, 

And hungry people prowled about at night, 

Then clamoured, and took arms — their war-cry " bread !" 

Thus was the dormant evil of their hearts 

Attested, and the King his people knew, 

And bitterly their want of reverence felt. 

Encolyon, in his stature tall confiding, 
Though Akinetos warned him not to move, 
Went gravely forth the rebel throngs to meet. 
The politic giant's staid demeanour awed 
The angry mass at first, and with their eyes 
They seemed to listen, doubtful of their ears, 
So puzzling was his speech. He to the King 
And his chief heroes then discoursed apart, 
Convincing them that all the wheels went well. 
With head bent sideways from the light, he looked 
Like to some statesman of consummate mind 
Working an ancient problem ; and then spake 
In language critical, final, stolid, astute, 
Concluding with affectionate appeal , 
To common sense, and all we hold most dear, 



CANTO II.] OKION. 17 

" Keep down — put back — prevent ! O Gods prevent !" 

This was his famous saying. Now the King 

Led out his patriot army — but ere long 

The army hungered too — the King was slain — 

Encolyon fled, and hid within a ship. 

Forthwith a crowd to Akinetos thronged, 
Crying, " What say'st thou, giant who art wise ? 
What shall we do ? " And Akinetos said, 
*' Great hunger is a single thing— one want : 
Satisfy that, and strength will be acquired 
To multiply desire — wants without end ! 
Therefore be patient : leave all else to fate." 

Stubborn the people as their own dry rocks — 
Enraged as the wild winds — to reason deaf — - 
And also wanting food — eursed his calm thought — 
Cast stones upon him, and had surely slain 
But that without resistance he bore all, 
And without word ; so they, being tired, relented. 
And bore him to the ship, where, in the hold, 
Encolyon lay at length with in-drawn breath. 
To Chios sailed the ship. The Ithacans 
Chose a new king, and traded with the isles. 



18 ORIOX. [BOOK I. 

In this companionship Orion's bent 
Of nature had not merged ; his working spirit 
Sought from the fallen trunks and rocks to frame 
Rude image of his fancies, till at length 
He won Hephaestos' love, from whom he learnt 
The god's own solid art. But this attained, 
And proved by mastery, a restless dream 
Dawned on his soul which he desired to shape, 
Yet knew not how, nor saw its like around, 
But vaguely felt at times, and thought he saw 
In shadows. Wherefore through the forest depths, 
Through vales and over hills, a hunter fleet 
He chased his unknown hopes ; and when the stag, 
Or goat, or ounce, he overtook and seized, 
Ever he set them free, and e'en the bear 
And raging boar his spear refrained to strike, 
Save by its shadow, as they roaring fled. 
The bodily thing became to him as nought 
When gained ; nor satisfied with efforts passed. 

Now from a Goddess did he quickly learn 
The mystery of his mood, and saw how vain 
His early life had been, and felt new roots 
Quicken within him, branches new that sprung 



CANTO II.] ORION. 19 

Aloft, and with expanding energies 
Tingled, and for immortal fruit prepared. 

She met him in her beauty. Oft when dawn 
With a grave red looked through the ash-pale woods, 
And quick dews singing fell, while with a pulse 
As quick, Orion stood beneath the trees, 
And gazed upon the uncertain scene,— his heart 
Forewarned his senses with a rapturous thrill. 
He turned, and from the misty green afar, 
In silence did the Goddess' train appear 
Rounding a thicket. Slow the crowding hounds 
Tript circling onward ; Nymphs with quivered backs, 
And clear elastic limbs of nut-brown hue, 
Or like tanned wall-fruit, ripening and compact ; 
And short-horned Fauns down gazing on their pipes ; 
And Oceanides with tresses green 
Plaited in order, or by golden nets 
In various device confined, each bearing 
Shell lyres and pearl-mouthed trumpets of the sea ; 
Dryads and Oreads decked with oak-leaf crowns 
And heath-bells, dancing in the fragrant air ; 
And Sylvans, who, half jFaun, half shepherd, lead 
A grassy life, with cymbals in each hand 



20 ORION. [-ooK i. 

Pressed cross-wise on the breast, waiting the sign ; — 

Attendant round a pale gold chariot moved : 

By two large-antlered milk-white stags 'twas drawn, 

Their sleek hides 'neath the fine dews quivering, 

In delicate delight. Above them rose 

The fair-haired Goddess, onward softly gliding, 

As though erect she stood on wafted clouds. 

She smiled not ; but the crescent on her brow 

Gleamed with a tender light. He knew 'twas love. 

Giddy with happiness Orion's spirit 
Now danced in air ; — his heart tumultuous beat 
Too high a measure and too wild, to taste 
The fullness that he dreamed encompassed him, 
But he could not encompass, nor scarce dare 
Clearly to recognize. And Artemis smiled 
Upon him with a radiance silver sweet, 
And o'er his forehead oft her hand she waved, 
Till visions of the purity of love 
Above him floated, and his being filled. 

Language of Gods she taught him ; and displayed, 
Far as 't was fitting, and from all gross acts 
Refined, their several wondrous histories : 



caxto ii.] ORION. 21 

But chief of all, in accents nobly sad, 

She told of kindness by Poseidon done, 

His ocean sire, when swan-necked Leto bearing 

Twins of bright destiny and heirs of heaven — 

Herself and Phoibos — cruelly was driven 

Through the bleak ways of earth, and found no rest, 

Pursued by serpent jealousy, for Zeus 

Had loved fair Leto ; how Orion's sire 

A floating isle that sometimes 'neath the waves 

Drifted unseen, sometimes shewed watery rocks, 

Smote with his trident, and majestical 

Delos arose — stood fast — and gave a home 

To fainting Leto,— and a place of birth 

For deities — the Sun, and his loved Orb. 

The mysteries, worship, and the sacrifice 

Of her Ephesian Temple, she displayed 

Before his wondering thought, and oft he knelt 

In solitude, when of its hundred columns, 

Each reared by kingly hands, wakeful he dreamed, 

And felt his Goddess love too high removed. 

The ocean realm below, and all its caves 

And bristling vegetation, plant and flower, 

And forests in their dense petrific shade 

Where the tides moan for sleep which never comes ; 



ORION. [book i. 

All this she taught him, and continually 
Knowledge of human life made clear to him 
Through facts and fables. He the intricate web 
Of nature, gradually of himself began 
To unwind, and see that gods and men were one — 
Born of one element, imperfect both, 
Yet aspirant, and with perfection's germ 
Somewhere within. He brooded o'er these things. 



One day, at noontide, when the chase was done, 
Which with unresting speed since dawn had held, 
The woods were all with golden fire alive, 
And heavy limbs tingled with glowing heat, 
Sy Ivans and Fauns at full length cast them down, 
And cooled their flame-red faces in the grass, 
Or o'er a streamlet bent, and dipped their heads 
Deep as the top hair of their pointed ears ; 
While Nymphs and Oceanides retired 
To grots and sacred groves, with loitering steps, 
And bosoms swelled and throbbing, like a bird's 
Held between human hands. The hounds with tongues, 
Crimson, and lolling hot upon the green, 
And outstretched noses, flatly crouched ; their skins 



ORION. 23 



Clouded or spotted, like the field-bean's flower, 
Or tiger-lily, painted the wide lawns. 



Orion wandered deep into a vale 
Alone ; from all the rest his steps he bent, 
Thoughtful, yet with no object in his mind ; 
Languid, yet restless. Near a hazel copse, 
Whose ripe nuts hung in clusters twined with grapes, 
He paused, down gazing, 'till upon his sense 
A fragrance stole, as of ambrosia wafted 
Through the warm shades by some divinity 
Amid the woods. With gradual step he moved 
Onward, and soon the poppied entrance found 
Of a secluded bower. He entered straight, 
Unconsciously attracted, and beheld 
His Goddess love, who slept — her robe cast off, 
Her sandals, bow and quiver, thrown aside, 
Yet with her hair still braided, and her brow 
Decked with her crescent light. Awed and alarmed 
By loving reverence — which dreads offence 
E'en though the wrong were never known, and feels 
Its heart's religion for religion's self, 
Besides its object's claim — swift he retired. 



24 ORION. [book i. 

The entrance gained, what thoughts, what visions his ! 
What danger had he 'scaped, what innocent crime, 
Which Artemis might yet have felt so deep ! 
He blest the God of Sleep who thus had held 
Her senses ! Yet, what loveliness had glanced 
Before his mind — scarce seen ! Might it not be 
Illusion ? — some bright shadow of a hope 
First dawning ? Would not sleep's God still exert 
Safe influence, if that he once more stole back 
And gazed an instant ? 'T were not well to do, 
And would o'erstain with doubt the accident 
Which first had led him there. He dare not risk 

The chance 't were not illusion oh, if true ! 

While thus he murmured hesitating, slow, 
As slow and hesitating he returned 
Instinctively, and on the Goddess gazed ! 



With adoration and delicious fear, 
Lingering he stood ; then pace by pace retired, 
'Till in the hazel copse sighing he paused, 
And with most earnest face and vacant eye, 
And brow perplexed, stared at a tree. His hands 
Were clenched ; his feet pressed down the soil, 



CANTO II.] ORION. 25 

And changed their place. Suddenly he turned round, 
And made his way direct into the bower. 

There was a slumbrous silence in the air, 
By noon- tide's sultry murmurs from without 
Made more oblivious. Not a pipe was heard 
From 'field or wood ; but the grave beetle's drone 
Passed near the entrance : once the cuckoo called 
O'er distant meads, and once a horn began 
Melodious plaint, then died away. A sound 
Of murmurous music yet was in the breeze, 
For silver gnats that harp on glassy strings, 
And rise and fall in sparkling clouds, sustained 
Their dizzy dances o'er the seething meads. 
With brain as dizzy stood Orion now 
I' the quivering bower. There rapturous he beheld, 
As in a trance, not conscious of himself, 
The perfect sculpture of that naked form, 
Whose Pariantfwhiteness and clear outline gleamed 
In its own hue, nor from the foliage took 
One tint, nor from his ample frame one shade. 
Her lovely hair hung drooping, half unbound, — 
Fair silken braids, fawn-tinted delicately, 
That on one shoulder lodged their opening coil. 



26 oriox. 

Her large round arms of dazzling beauty lay 
In matchless symmetry and inviolate grace 
Along the mossy floor. At length he dropped 
Softly upon his knees, his clasped hands raised 
Above his head, 'till by resistless impulse 

His arms descending, were expanded wide 

Swift as a flash, erect the Goddess rose ! 

Her eyes shot through Orion, and he felt 
Within his breast an icy dart. Confronted, 
Mutely they stood, but all the bower was filled 
"With rising mist that chilled him to the bone, 
Colder, as more obscure the space became ; 
And ere the last collected shape he saw 
Of Artemis, dispersing fast amid 
Dense vapoury clouds, the aching wintriness 
Had risen to his teeth, and fixed his eyes, 
Like glistening stones in the congealing air. 

% 



[BOOK I. 



©aiOHc 



Canto fyt Cijtrtf. 



O'er plastic nature any change may come, 
Save that which seeks to crush the primal germ ; 
And outward circumstance may breed within, 
A second nature which o'ercomes the first, 
But ne'er destroys, though dormant or subdued. 
More toil for him whose wandering fancies teem 
With too much life, and that vitality 
Which eats into itself; more toil of brain 
And limb, sole panacea for the change 
From tyrant senses to pure intellect. 
Wherefore, his work redoubled, Artemis 
Directs Orion's course ; not as before 
With grave and all-subduing tenderness, 



28 ORIOX. [book i 

While with white fingers midst his chestnut locks, 
In her speech pausing, gently would she hang 
Violets, as white as her own hands, and sprigs 
Of Cretan dittany, whose nodding spikes 
Flushed deeper pink beneath the sacred touch, — 
But with a penetrating influence 
And front austere, as suiting best the Queen 
Of maiden immortality. His soul 
Strove k „d to aeeend and leave the earth Md.d ; 
And by the Goddess' guidance every hour 
Had its fixed duties. Husbandry of fields 
She taught those giant hands, and how to raise 
The sweetest herbs and roots, which now T his food 
Became ; nor taste and culture of the vine 
Permitted, nor of slaughtered kine the flesh, 
Nor forest boar, nor other thing that owns 
An animal life. Lastly, she taught his mind 
To reason on itself, far as the bounds 
Of sense external furnish images 
And types in attestation of each phase 
Of man's internal sphere — large orbit space 
For varied lights — and also shewed the way 
Rightly his complex knowledge to employ, 
And from their shadows trace substantial things, 



CANTO III.] ORION. 29 

Things back again to shadows — thus evolving 
The principle of thought, from root to air. 

This done, the blossom and the fruit of all 
Was her prime truth, into each element 
Of his life's feelings and its acts, to instil : 
'Twas Love's divinest essence. In the soul, 
Central its altar's flame for ever burns 
Inviolate, and knowing not the change 
Which time and fate o'er all else in the world 
Bring speedily, or with a creeping film 
That hides decay. Ever at peace it dwells 
With its secure desires, which are soul-fed, 
Nor on idolatrous devotion made 
Dependent, nor on will and w r ayward moods 
Of others ; 'tis self-centred as a star, 
And in the music of the conscious nerves, 
Finds bliss, which e'en the slightest touch or look 
Of this magnetic passion can create, 
And render perfect. Nor doth absence break 
The links of ecstasy, which from a heart 
By heart are drawn, but 'midst the glare of day, 
The depths of night, alone or in a crowd, 
Imagination of love's balmy breath 

D 



;30 ORION. 

Can to the spirit fashion and expand 

Love's own pure rapture and delirium. 

To this fixed sublimation there belong 

No conflicts of pale doubts, anxieties, 

Mean jealousies, anguish of heart-crushed slaves, 

And forlorn faces looking out on seas 

Of coming madness, from the stony gaps 

Through which departed truth and bliss have fled ; 

But high communion, and a rapturous sense 

Of passion's element, whereof all life 

Is made ; and therefore life should ne'er attain 

A mastery o'er its pure creative light. 



Midst chequered sunbeams through the glancing woods 
No more Orion hunted ; from the dawn 
Till eve, within some lonely grot he sat, 
His thoughts reviewing, or beneath a rock 
Stood, back reclined, and watching the slow clouds, 
As doth a shepherd in a vacant mood. 
Oft to some highest peak would he ascend, 
And gaze below upon his giant friends, 
Who looked like moving spots, so dark and small ; 
And oft, upon some green cliff ledge reclined, 



CANTO III.] ORION. 31 

Watch with sad eye the jocund chase afar 

In the green landscape, where the quivering line 

Led by the stag — who drew its rout behind 

Of woodland shapes, confused as were their cries, 

And sparkling bodies of fleet-chasing hounds, — 

Passed like a magic picture, and was gone. 

His husbandry soon ceased ; he hated toil 

Unvaried, ending always in itself, 

And to the Goddess pleaded thoughtful hours 

For his excuse, and indolent self-disgust. 

Small profit found his thought ; his sympathies 

Were driven inward, and corroded there. 



Sometimes he wandered to the lowland fens, 
Where the wild mares toss their sharp manes in the blast, 
And scour through washy reeds and hollows damp — 
Hardened in after ages by long droughts ; 
Arid and stony in the present time — 
And midst the elements he sought relief 
From inward tempests. Once for many hours, 
In silence, only broken from afar 
By the deep lowing of some straying herd, 
Moveless and without speech he watched a hind 
d2 



32 ORION. [book i. 

Weeding a marsh ; a brutish clod, half built, 
Hog-faced and hog-backed with his daily toil, 
Mudded and root-stained by the steaming ooze, 
As he himself were some unnatural growth ; 
Who yet, at times, whistled through broken fangs — 
" Happier than I, this hind," Orion thought. 

Once tow'rds the city outskirts strayed his steps, 
With a half purpose some relief to seek 
Midst haunts of men, and on the way he met 
A mastic-sifter with his fresh-oiled face. 
" O friend ! " Orion said, " why dost thou walk 
With shining cheek so sadly in the sun?" 
Sighing, the melancholy man replied : — 
" The lentisk- trees have ceased to shed their gums ; 
Their tears are changed for mine, since by that tree 
Myself and children live. My toil stands still. 
Hard lot for man, who something hath within 
More than a tree, and higher than its top, 
Or circling clouds, to live by a mere root 
And its dark graspings ! Clearly I see this, 
And know how 't is that toil unequally 
Is shared on earth : but knowledge is not power 
To a poor man done 'gainst all the world, 



canto in] ORION. ;33 

Who, meantime, needs to eat. Like the hot springs 
That boil themselves away, and serve for nought, 
Which yet must have some office, rightly used, 
Man hath a secret source, for some great end, 
Which by delay seems wasted. Ignorance 
Chokes us, and time outwits us." — On he passed. 
" That soul hath greater cause for grief than I," 
Orion thought — yet not the less was sad. 

Away disconsolate the giant went, 
Now clambering forest slopes, now hurrying down 
Precipitous brakes, tearing the berried boughs 
For food, scarce tasted, and oft gathering husks, 
Or wind-eggs of strange birds dropt in the fens, 
To toss them in some rapid brook, and watch 
Their wavering flight. But now a tingling sound 
Wakes his dull ear !— a distant rising drone 
Upon the air, as of a wintry wind — 
And dry leaves rustle like a coming rain. ' 
The wind is here ; and, following soon, descends 
A tempest, which relieves its rage in tears. 
Kneeling he stooped, and drank the hissing flood, 
And wished the Ogygian deluge were returned ; 
Then sat in very wilfulness beside 



34 ORION. [BOOK I. 

The banks while they o'erfiowed, till starting up, 
Bounding he sought his early giant friends. 

Thern, in their pastoral yet half savage haunts 
Found, as of yore, he with brief speech addressed, 
And bade them to an orgie on the plain, 
By rocks and forests amphitheatred. 
Such greeting high they with a gleeful roar 
Received, and forthwith rose to follow him, 
Save Akinetos, who seemed not to hear, 
But looked more grave still seated on a stone, 
"While they betook them to the plains below. 

Thither at once they sped, and on the way 
Rhexergon tore down boughs, while Harpax slew 
Oxen and deer, more than was need ; and soon 
On the green space Orion built the pile 
With cross logs, underwood, dry turf and ferns, 
And cast upon it fat of kine, and heaps 
Of crisp dry leaves ; and fired the pile, and beat 
A hollow shield, and called the Bacchic train, 
Who brought their skins of wine, and loaded poles 
That bent with mighty clusters of black grapes 
Slung midway. In the blaze Orion threw 



CANTO III.] ORION. 

Choice gums, and oil, that with explosion bright 

Of broad and lucid flame alarmed the sky, 

And fragrant spice, then set the Fauns to dance, 

While whirled the timbrels, and the reed-pipes blew 

A full-toned melody of mad delight. 

Down came the Maenads from the sun -brown hills, 

And flocked the laughing Nymphs of groves and brooks ; 

With whom came Opis, singing to a lyre, 

And Sida, ivory-limbed and crowned with flowers. 

High swelled the orgie ; and the roasting bulk 

Of bull and deer was scarce distinguishable 

'Mid the loud -crackling boughs that sprawled in flame. 

Now richest odours rose, and filled the air — 

Made glittering with the cymbals spun on high 

Through jets of nectar upward cast in sport, 

And raging with songs and laughter and wild cries. 



In the first pause for breath and deeper draughts, 
A Faun who on a quiet green knoll sat 
Somewhat apart, sang a melodious ode, 
Made rich by harmonies of hidden strings, 
Unto bright Merope the island's pride, 
And daughter of the king ; whereto a quire 



06 ORIOX. [BOOK I. 

Gave chorus, and her beauties rare rehearsing, 
Wished that Orion shared with her the throne. 

The wine ran wastefully, and o'er the ears 
Of the tall jars that stood too near the fire, 
Bubbled and leapt, and streamed in crimsoning foam, 
Hot as the hissing sap of the green logs. 
But none took heed of that, nor anything. 
Thus song and feast, dance, and wild revelry, 
Succeeded ; now in turn, now all at once 
Mingling tempestuously. In a blind whirl 
Around the fire Biastor dragged a rout 
In osier bands and garlands ; Harpax fiercely 
The violet scarfs and autumn-tinted robes 
From Nymph and Maenad tore ; and by the hoofs 
Autarces seized a Satyr, with intent, 
Despite his writhing freaks and furious face, 
To dash him on a gong, but that amidst 
The struggling mass Encolyon thrust a pine, 
Heavy and black as Charon's ferrying pole, 
O'er which they, like a bursting billow, fell. 

At length when night came folding round the scene, 
And golden lights grew red and terrible, 



canto in.] ORION. 37 

Flashed torch and spear, while reed-pipes deeper blew 

Sonorous dirgings and melodious storm, 

And timbrels groaned and jangled to the tones 

Of high-sustaining horns, — then round the blaze, 

Their shadows brandishing afar and athwart 

Over the level space and up the hills, 

Six giants held portentous dance, nor ceased 

Till one by one in bare Bacchante arms, 

Brim-full of nectar, helplessly they roiled 

Deep down oblivion. Sleep absorbed their souls. 

Region of Dreams ! ye seething procreant beds 
For germs of life's solidities and power ; 
Whether ye render up from other spheres 
Our past or future beings to the ken 
Of this brief state ; or, wiser, art designed, 
With all thy fleeting images confused, 
To scatter, during half our mortal hours, 
The concentrating passions and the thoughts 
Which else were madness ; Oh maternal realm, 
Console each troubled heart ! — with opiate hand 
Gently the senses charm, and lead astray 
The vulture thoughts by thy blest phantasies, 
Beckoning with vague yet irresistible smile ! 



38 ORION. 

Sleep's God the prayer well pleased received, but said 
"Not such the meed of those who seek my courts 
Through Bacchanalian orgies. " O'er the brain 
Of fallen Orion visions suitable 
Came with voluptuous gorgeousness, preceded 
By a dim ode ; and as it nearer swelled, 
In rapturous beauty Merope swept by, 
Who on him gazed in ecstasy ! He strove 
To rise — to speak — in vain. Yet still she gazed, 
And still he strove ; till a voice cried in his ear, 
" Depart from Artemis ! — she loves thee not — 
Thou art too full of earth ! " He started awake ! 
The piercing voice that cast him forth, still rang 
Within his soul ; the vision of delight 
Still ached along each nerve ; and slowly turning 
A look perplexed around the spectral air, 
Himself he found alone 'neath the cold sky 
Of day-break, midst black ashes and ruins drear. 



EI ©He 



JBO©E IL 



Canto tfje dftrs't 



Beneath a tree, whose heaped-up burthen swayed 

In the high .wind, and made a hustling sound, 

As of a distant host that scale a hill, 

Autarces and Encolyon gravely sat. 

Sometimes they spake aloud, then murmured low, 

Then paused as if perplexed, — looked round and snuffed 

The odour of wood-fires in the fresh forest air, — 

And then again addressed them to their theme. 

Of cloudy-brained Orion they discoursed, 

Lost to companionship, and led by dreams. 

" Once," said Autarces, " he was great on earth ; 
A worker in iron, and a hunter fleet 



42 ORION. [book ii. 

Who oft ran down the stag; when, by some chance, 

He pleaseth Artemis, and in her train, 

All his high worth resigning, and his friends, 

Dwindles to suit her fancy, and becomes 

A giant of lost mind." Encolyon thrust 

His heavy heel into the soil, and spake 

With serious gesture. "Ever Orion sought 

Some new device, some hateful onward deed 

Through strange ways hurrying, scorning wise delay. 

A victim fell he soon to Artemis 

And her cold spells, for of his Ocean-sire 

Orion's soul hath many a headlong tide. 

But most of all her gleamy illusions fell 

Upon his mind, which soon became a maze 

For ghostly wanderings, and wild echoes heard 

Through mists ; and none could comprehend his speech." 

" Methought the orgie had recalled his sense, 
So fairly he bespake us to the mirth ; 
So full and giant-like was his disport 
Throughout the night," Autarces now rejoined. 
Encolyon raised one hand : — " That orgie's waste 
Of energies," he murmured, " and the hours 
Far better given to rest, I much deplore. 






CAKTO I.] ORION. 43 

Why joined I in the mirth ? — how was I lost ! 
But when a regulated mind sedate, 
Its perfect poise permits to waver aside 
One tittle, certainly the man must fall 
Somewhat in dignity, howe'er retrieved. 

Hence, when a regulated " Here his speech 

Autarces interrupted hastily, 

Since, for his share, no self-reproach felt he. 

" I say the orgie, and his high disport, 

Shewed in Orion some return to sense : 

And when next morn I saw him near a brook, 

Where I had stooped to drink — by him unseen — 

Down ran he like a panther close pursued, 

Then stopped and listened — now looked up on high — 

Now stared into the brook as he would drink, 

And drain its ripplings to the last white stone — 

Then went away forgetful. . This methought, 

E'en by its wildness and its strenuous throes, 

Savoured of hope, and of his safe return 

To corporal sense, by shaking off these nets 

Of moon-beams from his soul ; but when I rose 

And crossed his path, and bade him speak to me, 

Again 't was all of vapour and dark thoughts, 

Unlike the natural thoughts of bone and thews, 



44 ORIOX. [book ii. 

As we of yore were taught, and found enough 

For all our needs, and for our songs and prayers. 

Yet had he, as it seemed, some plan within, 

And ever tended to some central point 

In some place — nought more could I understand : 

"Wherefore I deem that he is surely mad." 

" And so deem I," — rejoined Encolyon : 

" Ever advancing — working a new way — 

Tasking his heart, forgetful of his life 

And present good — of madness the sure sign." 

"While thus they talked, Harpax with speed approached, 
Shouting his tidings — " Merope loves Orion- 
Orion hath gone mad for Merope !" 
The twain who had erewhile the cause discerned, 
• And signs of reason's loss, at this fresh news, 
So little dreamed-of from his recent mood, 
A minute looked each other in the face 
With sheep-like gravity, then backward sank 
Against the tree, loud laughing. u This were good," 
Checking his laughter with a straight-lined face, 
Encolyon said, " if not too deeply burning, 
And that a power within himself he hold 
To pause at will." But Harpax quick rejoined, 






CANTO I] ORION. 45 

" I, for myself, would have this Merope, 
And force CEnopion render up his crown, 
If ye will aid me." " We will give our aid," 
Autarces cried — " and yet methinks this love 
Affecting doubly, as by the self- same blow, 
Might from some spells in the orgie-fumes arise ? 
Ye marked, wise Akinetos would not move." 
" Doubtless 'twas wise," Encolyon said, " More care 
Befits our steps." They rose and strode away. 

There is a voice that floats upon the breeze 
From a heathed mountain ; voice of sad lament 
For love left desolate ere its fruits were known, 
Yet by the memory of its own truth sweetened, 
If not consoled. To this Orion listens 
Now, while he stands within the mountain's shade. 

" The scarf of gold you sent to me, was bright 
As any streak on cloud or sea, when morn 
Or sun-set light most lovely strives to be. 
But that delicious hour can come no more, 
When, on the wave-lulled shore, mutely we sat, 
And felt love's power, which melted in fast dews 
Our being and our fate, as doth a shower 

E 



ORION. [book n. 

Deep foot-marks left upon a sandy moor. 

We thought not of our mountains and our streams, 

Our birth-place, and the home of our life's date, 

But only of our dreams — and heaven's blest face. 

Never renew thy vision, passionate lover — 

Heart-rifled maiden — nor the hope pursue, 

If once it vanish from thee ; but believe 

'T is better thou shouldst rue this sweet loss ever 

Than newly grieve, or risk another chill 

On false love's icy river, which betraying 

With mirrors bright to see, and voids beneath, 

Its broken spell should find no faith in thee." 

Thus sang a gentle Oread who had loved 
A River-god with gold-reflecting streams, 
But found him ail too cold — while yet she stood 
Scarce ankle-deep — and droopingly retired 
To sing of fond hopes past. Orion's hand 
A jewelled armlet held, whereon his eyes 
Earnestly rested. By a lovely boy, 
To him 't was smiling brought while he reclined 
Desponding, o'er a rock. " This gift, still warm, 
My mistress sends thee, giant son of Ocean, 
Once having seen thee in the hunting train 



CANTO I.J ORION. 

» Of Artemis. Her name, if thou wouldst "know, 
'Tis Merope, daughter of Chios' king, 
The proud CEnopion, lord of an hundred ships." 

Orion to the palace of the king 
Forthwith departed. Merope once seen, 
His eyes resign their clear external power, 
And see through feeling, utterly possessed 
With her rare image ; and his deep desire, 
Deeper by energies so long confused, 
When half his earth-born nature was subdued, 
Struggled, and bounded onward to the goal. 

Her beauty awed the common race of men. 
Hers was a shape made for a serpent dance, 
Which charmed to stillness and to burning dreams, 
But she herself the illusive charm o'er-ruled 
As doth an element, merging for a time, 
Ne'er lost ; and none could steadily confront 
Her sphynx-like bosom, and high watchful heado 
Dark were her eyes, and beautiful as Death's, 
With a mysterious meaning, such as lurks 
In that pale Ecstasy, the Queen of Shades. 
All deemed her passion was a mortal flame, 
e 2 



48 ORION. [book ii. 

Volcanic, corporal, ending with its hour 

Of sacrifice, dissolving in fine air ; 

Save one bald sage, who said that human nerves, 

And what they wrought, were wondrous as the mind, 

And in the eye of Zeus none could decide 

Which held the higher.place. For, to the nerves 

Perfect abstraction and pure bliss belonged, 

As parent of all life, and might in death 

Continuance through some subtler medium find, — 

Whence, life renewed, and heaven at length attained. 

Nought of this sage's lore recked Merope, 
And. for Orion, he of thought was sick, 
Save that which round his present object played 
Delicious gambols and high phantasies. 
Together they, the groves and templed glades 
That, like old Twilight's vague and gleamy abode, 
Hung vision-like around the palace towers, 
Roved, mute with passion's inward eloquence. 
They loitered near the founts that sprang elate 
Into the dazzled air, or pouring rolled 
A crystal torrent into oval shapes 
Of grey-veined marble ; and oft gazed within 
Profoundly tranquil and secluded pools, 



CANTO I.] ORION. 49 

Whose lovely depths of mirrored blackness clear — 
Oblivion's lucid-surfaced mystery — 
Their earnest faces and enraptured eyes 
Visibly, and to each burning heart, revealed. 
" And art thou mine to the last gushing drop 
Of these high throbbing veins ?" each visage said. 
Orion straightway to GEnopion sped, 
And his life's service to the gloomy king 
He proffered for the hand of Merope. 

GEnopion strode about his pillared hall, 
And the dun chequers of its marble floor 
Counted perplexed, while pondering his reply. 
Orion's strength and giant friends he feared ; 
Nor to accept the alliance, nor refuse, 
Seemed wise. Thereto, Poseidon's empire rolled 
Too near, and might surround his towers with waves ; 
Wherefore the king a double face assumed. 
" Orion, I consent," mildly he said : 
" Thy service I accept, and to thee give, 
When thou shalt have performed it, Merope. 
Clear me our Chios of its savage beasts, 
Dragon and hippogrif, wolves, serpents dire, 
Within six days, and Merope is thine." 



50 ORION. [book n. 

Through the high palace gates Orion passed, 
Speeding to seek strong aid for this hard task 
Among his forest friends. Old memories 
Slumbrously hung above the purple line 
Of distance, to the east, while odorously 
Glistened the tear-drops of a new-fallen shower ; 
And sun-set forced its beams through strangling boughs , 
Gilding green shadows, till it blazed athwart 
The giant-caves, and touched with watery fires 
The heavy foot-marks which had plashed the sward 
On vacant paths, through foliaged vistas steep, 
Where gloom was mellowing to a grand repose. 
At intervals, as from beneath the ground, 
Far in the depth of these primeval cells, 
Low respirations came. There, in great shade, 
The giants sleep. Lost sons are they of Time. 

There is no hoar when rest is sacred held 
By him who works and builds ; and eve and night, 
Alike with day, his toil oftimes will claim. 
" Aw r ake companions ! 'tis Orion calls !" 
And straight the giants rose, and came to him, 
Save Akinetos, into whose low cave 
They with a torch now entered, there to hold 






CANTO 1.] ORION. 51 

The conference, for he was very wise, 

And ne'er proposed, nor did a thing that failed. 

Orion's tale is told ; Autarces then 
For Merope proposed the lots to draw, 
Whereat Orion glared, — but speech refrained 
When Harpax fiercely on Autarces turned 
With loud reproach, since he had sworn to him 
Far different purpose ; so Orion smiled, 
And of Rhexergon and Biastor sought 
Aid in his heavy task. They promised this — 
When each one, by an arm, Encolyon 
Grasped, and reminded of the darkness. " Night 
Is the fit time," Orion cried, "to dig 
The pitfalls, throw up mounds with bristling stakes 
At top, as barriers, and the nets and toils 
Fix and prepare, and choose our clubs and spears." 
But still Encolyon urged a day's delay, 
For dignity of movements thus combined, 
If not for need. To Akinetos now 
All turned with reverence, waiting the result 
Of silent wisdom and of calm profound ; 
But from these small things he had long withdrawn 
His godlike mind, and was again abstract. 



52 ORIOX. [book ii. 

Orion took the torch, and led the way 
Into the dark damp air. Each to his post 
Assigning ; one, for the chief mountain pass, 
Soon as the grey dawn touched the highest peaks ; 
One, in the plains below ; two, for the woods ; 
The while Biastor and himself would range 
The island, driving to the centre all 
That should escape their spears. 'T was thus resolved. 
Meantime Rhexergon and Biastor joined 
Orion, who went forth to dig the pits, 
Break down high tops of trees, and weave their boughs 
In barrier walls, and fix sharp stakes on mounds 
And river banks. When they were gone, a yell, 
Mocking the wild beasts doomed to be destroyed, 
Harpax sent forth. " Mine be the task," he said, 
" To ravage the King's pastures — slay his bulls — 
And into our own woods and meadows drive 
His goats and stags." " Rather collect alive," 
Autarces interposed, "with strong-meshed nets, 
All the mad beasts, and loose them suddenly 
Within CEnopion's palace ! That were sport 
Worthy our toil ; small joy for us to aid 
Orion's freaks for love of Merope, — 
Whom yet, methinks, he wisely hath preferred 



CAKTO I] ORION. 53 

To crystal-bosomed, wintry Artemis, — 

Pale huntress, exiled from our sunny woods, 

Had my will power — " " But all her nymphs detained, 

And, like our vines, deep rifled through their leaves 

Of golden fruit " — Harpax rejoined : " Or placed/' 

Encolyon slowly muttered to himself, 

" On pedestals, until they changed to stone,"- 

" As votive statues to the Goddess famed 
For cruel purity and marble heart — " 
Autarces shouted, looking up on high. 

All this heard Artemis, who o'er the caves 
Rolled her faint orb before the coming dawn, 
In lonely sadness ; and with an inward cry 
Of jealous anguish and of vengeful ire, 
Like an electric spark that knows not space, 
Shot from her throne into the eastern heaven. 



lai o Mo 



Cxnta tfyz §)ttants. 



The Sun-god's tresses o'er the whirling reins 
That scarcely ruled the swift-ascending steeds, 
Fell, like a golden torrent, while his head, 
Answering his goddess sister's brief request, 
Smiling he bowed, — and the clouds closed behind 
His blazing wheels. Four of those giant's sires 
Were gods, who with their earth-born sons might hold 
Communion ; wherefore Artemis, alone, 
Deemed not her power sufficed for safe revenge ; 
Of which now sure, her course to earth she bent. 

The night- work done, his friends Orion left 
Their further preparations to complete, 



ORION. 55 

And to the caves returned, hopeful that now 

The others would assist. There sat the three, 

Listening the slow speech of Encolyon, 

Who with change-hating eyes, fixed on the earth, 

Discoursed, and to Orion's anxious looks 

Thus made reply. "We have resolved to give 

Our utmost aid — or aid that may suffice, — 

In furtherance of thy task, which many days 

Rightly requires." " Six days," Orion said, 

And turned to go ; when Harpax interposed : 

" Be it then six, but our conditions hear. 

Take Merope, thy prize ; the rest be ours. 

CEnopion's kingdom we shall duly share, 

And make Encolyon king, as fitted best 

For cares of state and governance of men." 

" Not altogether King," Encolyon said 

With meekness — "but, in sooth, I would return 

Among mankind, and dictate to small towns." 

Orion answered, " This were breach of faith 
In me ; the King and all his subjects, still 
Must as I found them rest, until he die ; 
Then, as ye will, among ye take the crown, 
Which, having Merope, I ne'er shall claim. 



56 ORION. [book ii. 

Away now to our work." Autarces rose. 
" This we accept," he said, "for brief is life 
Of man — and insecure. But further thought 
Should prompt us rather choose Encolyon 
As guiding minister and staid high priest, 
While Akinetos rule as Chios' king." 

At mention of the name so reverenced, 
Silently all assented. " See, the light 
Of day spreads warmly down the valley slopes !" 
Orion cried. Now Phoibos through the cave 
Sent a broad ray ! Harpax arose, and then, — 
Pondering on rules for safest monarchy, — 
Encolyon heavily. The solar beam 
Filled the great cave with radiance equable, 
And not a cranny held one speck of shade. 
A moony halo round Orion came, 
As of some pure protecting influence, 
While with intense light glared the walls and roof, 
The heat increasing. The three giants stood 
With glazing eyes, fixed. Terribly the light 
Beat on the dazzled stone, and the cave hummed 
With reddening heat, till the red hair and beard 
Of Harpax shewed no difference from the rest, 



CANTO II.] ORION. 

Which once were iron-black. The sullen walls 

Then smouldered down to steady oven-heat, 

Like that with care attained when bread has ceased 

Its steaming, and displays an angry tan. 

The appalled faces of the giants shewed 

Full consciousness of their immediate doom. 

And soon the cave a potter's furnace glowed, 

Or kiln for largest bricks, and thus remained 

The while Orion, in his halo clasped 

By some invisible power, beheld the clay, 

Of these his early friends, change. Life was gone ! 



Now sank the heat — the cave -walls' lost their glare — 
The red lights faded, and the halo pale 
Around him, into chilly air expanded. 
There stood the three great images, in hue 
Of chalky white and red, like those strange shapes 
In Egypt's ancient tombs ; but presently 
Each visage and each form with cracks and flaws 
Was seamed, and the lost countenance brake up, 
As, with brief toppling, forward prone they fell, — 
And in dismay uttering a sudden cry, 
Orion headlong from the cavern fled. 



ORION. [boc 

Fierce Harpax, and wind-steered Autarees, smitten 
From life thus early, may by few be wept ; 
But long laments by the chief rulers made, 
Of Chios, for the sage Encolyon, 
Far echoed, and still echo, through the world — 
Which feels, e'en now, for his great principle 
A secret reverence. " Chainer of the wheel ! 
Hater of all new things ! — to whom the acts 
Of men seemed erring ever in each hope 
And effort to advance, save in a round, 
Taught by the high example of the spheres ! — 
Oh champion grave, who with a boundary stone 
Stood'st in improvement's door-way like a god, 
Ready by wholesome chastisement to grant 
Crushing protection ; regulator old 
Of science, scorning genius and its dreams, 
And all the first ideas and germs of things, 
Time and his broods of children shall prolong 
Thy fame, thy maxims, and thy practise staid, 
Fraught with experience turning on itself." 

O'er the far rocks, midst gorge and glen profound ; 
Now from close thickets, now from grassy plains ; 
The sounds of raging contest, flight and death, 



OAKTO II.] ORION. 50 

Told where Pthexergon and Biastor wrought 

Their well-directed work. Them, quickly joined 

Their head in this destruction, and ere night, 

Huge forms, ferocious, mighty in the dawn, 

When hoar rime glistened on each hairy shape, 

Nought fearing, swift, brimfull of raging life, 

Lay stiffening in black pools of jellied gore. 

Nor with the day ceased their tremendous task, 

But all night long Orion led the way 

Through moonless passes to most secret lairs, 

Where in their deep abodes fierce monsters crouched, — 

Dragons, and sea-beasts, and compounded forms, — 

And in the pitchy blackness madly huddling, 

Midst deafening yells and hisses they were slain. 

Next day the unabated toil displayed 
Like prowess and result ; but with the eve 
Fatigue o'ercame the giants, and they slept. 
Dense were the rolling clouds, starless the glooms, 
But o'er a narrow rift, once drawn apart, 
Shewing a field remote of violet hue, 
The high Moon floated, and her downward gleam 
Shone on the upturned giant faces. Rigid 
Each upper feature, loose the nether jaw ; 



6*0 ORION. [book ii. 

Their arms cast wide with open palms ; their chests 
Heaving like some large engine. Near them lay 
Their bloody clubs with dust and hair begrimed, 
Their spears and girdles, and the long-noosed thongs. 
Artemis vanished ; all again was dark. 

With day's first streak Orion rose, and loudly 
To his companions called. But still they slept. 
Again he shouted ; yet no limb they stirred, 
Though scarcely seven strides distant. He approached, 
And found the spot, so sweet with clover flower 
When they had cast them down, was now arrayed 
"With many-headed poppies, like a crowd 
Of dusky Ethiops in a magic cirque, 
Which had sprung up beneath them in the night, 
And all entranced the air. Orion paced 
Around their listless bodies thoughtfully. 
" Three giants slain outright by Phoibos' beams, — 
Now hath a dead sleep fallen on my friends. 
'Twas wise in Akinetos not to move." 
An earthquake would not wake them. Artemis 
Rejoices, and the hopes of Merope, 
To whom the news a breathless shepherd bore, 
Throbbed fearfully suspended o'er the brink 






CANTO it.] ORION. fit 

Of this event. Not long Orion paused : 

" Though all may fail, the utmost shall be tried : 

Secure is he who on himself relies." 

This, hastening to his work, was all he said. 



Four days remain. Fresh trees he felled, and wove 
More barriers and fences ; inaccessible 
To fiercest charge of droves, and to o'erleap 
Impossible. These walls he so arranged, 
That to a common centre each should force 
The flight of those pursued ; and from that centre 
Diverged three outlets. One, the wide expanse, 
Which from the rocks and inland forests led ; 
One, was the clear-skied windy gap above 
A precipice ; the third, a long ravine 
Which, through steep slopes, down to the sea shore ran 
Winding, and then direct into the sea. 



Two days remain. Orion, in each hand 
Waving a torch, his course at night began, 
Through wildest haunts and lairs of savage beasts. 
With long-drawn howl, before him trooped the wolves,- 

F 



62 ORION. [book ii. 

The panthers, terror-stricken, — and the bears 

With wonder and gruff rage ; from desolate crags, 

Leering hyaenas, griffin, hippogrif, 

Skulked, or sprang madly, as the tossing brands 

Flashed through the midnight nooks and hollows cold, 

Sudden as fire from flint ; o'er crashing thickets, 

With crouched head and curled fangs, dashed the wild boar, 

Gnashing forth on with reckless impulses, 

While the clear-purposed fox crept closely down 

Into the underwood, to let the storm, 

Whate'er its cause, pass over. Through dark fens, 

Marshes, green rushy swamps, and margins reedy, 

Orion held his way, — and rolling shapes 

Of serpent and of dragon moved before him 

With high-reared crests, swan- like yet terrible, 

And often looking back with gem-like eyes. 

All night Orion urged his rapid course 

In the vexed rear of the swift-droving din, 

And when the dawn had peered, the monsters all 

Were hemmed in barriers. These he now o'erheaped 

With fuel through the day, and when again 

Night darkened, and the sea a gulf-like voice 

Sent forth, the barriers at all points he fired, 

Midst prayers to Heplisestos and his Ocean-sire. 



CANTO IT] ORION. 65 

Soon as the flames had eaten out a gap 
In the great barrier fronting the ravine 
That ran down to the sea, Orion grasped 
Two blazing boughs ; one high in air he raised, 
The other with its roaring foliage trailed 
Behind him as he sped. Onward the droves 
Of frantic creatures with one impulse rolled 
Before this night-devouring thing of flames, 
With multitudinous voice and downward sweep 
Into the sea, which now first knew a tide, 
And, ere they made one effort to regain 
The shore, had caught them in its flowing arms, 
And bore them past all hope. The living mass, 
Dark heaving o'er the waves resistlessly, 
At length, in distance, seemed a circle small, 
Midst which, one creature in the centre rose, 
Conspicuous in the long red quivering gleams 
That from the dying brands streamed o'er the waves. 
It was the oldest dragon of the fens, 
Whose forky flag-wings and horn-crested head 
O'er crags and marshes regal sway had held ; 
And now he rose up, like an embodied curse 
From all the doomed, fast sinking — some just sunk — 
f 2 



64 ORION. [book ii. 

Looked land-ward o'er the sea, and flapped his vans, 
Until Poseidon drew them swirling down. 

Along the courts and lofty terraces, 
Within CEnopion's palace echoing, 
The choral voices and triumphal clang 
Of music, ordered by the royal maid, 
Advanced to greet Orion. She with flushed neck 
And arms ; large eyes of flashing jet and fire, 
And raven tresses fallen from their bands, 
The loud procession led. But soon they met 
A phalanx armed with mandate from the king, 
And all the triumph ceased. CEnopion 
Gnawed on his lip, and gathered up his robe 
In one large knot. Forthwith the whispering guards 
His daughter to the strongest tower convey ; 
Then silently return. Orion comes : 
" The work is done, O king ! and Merope 
My bride, I claim — my second father thou ! " 
This said, he bent his knee. With wandering eye, — 
Like one who seems to seek within the air 
An object, while his thoughts would gather time 
For guile — and with averted face, the king 
Answered " Thou claim'st too soon ! " — and inwardly 



ca*to ii.] ORION. 65 

(Enopion said—" Three of his giant band 

Are dead ; the others spell-bound sleep." The voice 

Of wronged Orion rose within the hall, 

Demanding Merope ; but image-like, 

Hard as if hewn out from a flinty cliff, 

And stately stood the king, as he replied, 

" She waits the voice of our mute oracles." 

In a deep forest where the night-black spires 
Of pines begin to swing, and breathe a dirge 
Whose pauses are filled up with yearning tones 
Of oaks that few external throes display 
Midst their robust unyielding boughs — the winds 
Are flying now in gusts, and soon a storm 
Bursts howling through them, like a Fury sent 
In quest of one who hath outstripped his fate 
And been caught up to heaven. But no escape 
Or premature release his course attends 
Whose passions boil above mortality ; 
Nor till those mortal struggles have transpired 
Can satisfaction or repose be found. 
Vainly shall he with self-deluding pride 
Of weakness, masked with power, seek solitude 
And high remoteness from his fellow men, 



66 ORION. [book ii. 

In all their bitter littleness and strife ; 
Their noble efforts, suffering, martyrdom. 
He conquers not who flies, except he bear 
Conquest within ; nor flies he who believes 
The object of his passion he can grasp, 
Save for design to consummate the end. 

"Oh, raging forest, do I seek once more 
Your solitude for my secure abode ? " 
Orion cried, with wild arms cast abroad, 
Fronting a tree whose branches lashed the air, 
While its leaves showered around ; — " And shall I not 
In your direct communion with the earth 
And heavens, find sympathy with this branched frame 
I bear, thus shaken ; yet unlike your storm 
Which may be wholesome, coming from without, 
And from the operative round of things, 
While mine is centred in myself, and rends 
But does not remedy. Let me then shun 
The baleful haunts of men — worse than the beasts 
Whom I have exiled, and to shadows changed — 
Savage as beasts with less of open force ; 
As wily, with less skill and promptitude ; 
As little reasoning, save for selfish ends ; 



cavto ii] ORION. 67 

Less faithful, true, and honest, than the dog; 

But hypocritical, which beasts are not, 

Save in the fables which men make for them ! 

Into myself will I henceforth retire, 

And find the world I dreamed of when a child. 

Nor this alone ; but worlds of higher mould 

And loftier attributes shall roll before 

My constant contemplation, in the cave . 

Of Akinetos, whom at times I '11 seek, 

And emulate his wisdom ; ever right 

In never moving, more than absolute need. 

Thus shall I find my solace in disdain 

Of earth's inhabitants, whom through city and field 

I 've found sheer clay, save in the visions bright, 

Of Goddess, and of Nymph, O Merope ! 

And where art thou, while idly thus I rave ? 

Runs there no hope — no fever through thy veins, 

Like that which leaps and courses round my heart ? 

Shall I resign thee, passion-perfect maid, 

Who in mortality's most finished work 

Rank'st highest — and lov'st me, even as I love ? 

Rather possess thee with a ten-fold stress 

Of love ungovernable, being denied ? 

'Gainst fraud what should I cast down in reply ? — 



CS ORION. [book tt 

What but a sword, since force must do me right, 

And strength was given unto me with my birth, 

In mine own hand, and by ascendancy 

Over my giant brethren. Two remain, 

Whom prayers to dark Hephaestos and my sire 

Of ocean, shall awaken into life ; 

And we will tear up gates, and scatter towers, 

Until I bear oil Merope. Sing on ! 

Sing on, great tempest ! in the darkness sing ! 

Thy madness is a music that brings calm 

Into my central soul ; and from its waves 

That now with joy begin to heave and gush, 

The burning image of all life 's desire, 

Like an absorbing fire-breathed phantom-god, 

Rises and floats ! — here touching on the foam, 

There hovering over it ; ascending swift 

Star- ward, then swooping down the hemisphere 

Upon the lengthening javelins of the blast ! 

"Why paused I in the palace groves to dream 

Of bliss, with all its substance in my reach ? 

Why not at once, with thee enfolded, whirl 

Deep down the abyss of ecstasy, to melt 

All brain and being where no reason is, 

Or else the source of reason ? But the roaring 






CANTO IT 



ORION. 69 



Of Time's great wings which ne'er had driven me, 

By dread events nor broken-down old age, 

Back on myself, the close experience 

Of false mankind, with whispers cold and dry 

As snake-songs midst stone hollows, thus has taught me — 

The giant hunter, laughed at by the world, — 

Not to forget the substance in the dream 

Which breeds it. Both must merge in one. 

Now shall I overcome thee, body and soul, 

And like a new-made element brood o'er thee 

With all-devouring murmurs ! Come, thou storm, 

And clasp the rigid pine — this mortal frame 

Wrap with thy whirlwinds, rend and wrestle down, 

And let my being solve its destiny, 

Defying, seeking, thine extremest power, 

Famished and thirsty for the absorbing doom 

Of that immortal death which leads to life, 

And gives a glimpse of heaven's parental scheme." 



013 ©He 



Caitto fyz €f)ivts. 



In parching summer, when the mulberry leaves 
Drooped broad and gleaming, and the myrtles curled, 
While the pomegranate's rind grew thin and hard ; 
The vegetation of the isle looked pale, 
Flaccid, and fading in despondency 
For rain, and the young corn in every field, 
With dry and rustling murmur as it waved, 
Glistened impatiently, till autumn's tomb 
Received the husky voice, and spring's dead hopes. 
The vine-hills, and wild turpentines that grew 
Along the road beneath, all basked content, 
As did the lentisk- trees ; but many a pant 
And sultry sigh came from the fields and meads, 



ORION. 71 

The city's gardens, where no fountains played, 

And hot stone temples in the sacred groves. 

Such lack of moisture oft had been endured, 

And e'en the latest winter, whose thick breath 

Solemnly wafted o'er the iEgean sea, 

Had not resigned a single peak of snow 

To melt and flow down for the brooks of spring. 



But since the breath of spring had stirred the woods, 
Through which the joyous tidings busily ran, 
And oval buds of delicate pink and green 
Broke, infant-like, through bark of sapling boughs, — 
The vapours from the ocean had ascended, 
Fume after fume, wreath upon wreath, and floor 
On floor, till a grey curtain upward spread 
From sea to sky, and both as one appeared. 
Now came the snorting and precipitous steeds 
Of the Sun's chariot tow'rds the summer signs ; 
At first obscurely, then with dazzling beams ; 
And cleared the heavens, but held the vapours there, 
In cloudy architecture of all hues. 
The stately fabrics and the eastern pomps, 
Tents, tombs, processions veiled, and temples vast, 



ORION. [E00K n. 

Remained not long in their august repose, 

But sank to ruins, and re-formed in likeness 

Of monstrous beasts in lands and seas unknown. 

These gradually dilating, limb from limb, 

And head from bulk, were drawn apart, and floated 

Hither and thither, till in ridges strewn, 

Like to a rich and newly-furrowed field, 

Then breaking into purple isles and spots, 

Faded to faintness, and dissolved in air. 



One midnight dark a spirit electric came, 
And shot an invisible arrow through the sky, 
Which instantly the wide-spread moisture called 
To congregate in heavy drops, that fell 
As suddenly. Like armies, host on host, 
Pouring upon the mountains, vales, and plains, 
The showers clashed down. Each runnel and thin stream 
A branching brook became, or flowing river ; 
Each once small river rolled a goodly flood 
With laughing falls, and many a Naiad bright 
And rush-crowned River-god, was newly born, 
While all the land-veins with fresh spirit ran 
In this quick season of Orion's life. 






canto in.] ORION. 

The snows on every height had drank the showers, 
Till heavy with the moisture, each steep ridge 
Lost its pure whiteness and transparent frost ; 
Sank down as humbly as a maid once proud, 
Who droops and kneels and weeps ; and from beneath 
Its stagnant foam melted quick running rills 
Down slopes, with sunny music and loud hum, 
Precipitous, ere through dark craggy rifts 
Sparkling it dashed, and poured towards the plain. 
Unusual growth of corn was in the land, 
Whose fields with tender-flowing greenness smiled, 
As winds with shades ran dances over them ; 
And e'en the vineyards, oliveyards, and groves 
Of citron, were in their abundant fruits 
Abundantly increased : all works increased. 



Dark as an eagle on a cloudy rock, 
(Enopion sat upon his ancient throne. 
Fixed was his face, while, through a distant gate, 
Upon the ruins of a tower he gazed, 
That like a Titan's shattered skeleton 
Still in its place stuck fast. But she was gone ; 
His daughter Merope was borne away ; 



74 ORIOX. [book ii. 

And willingly lie knew ; and whither fled, 

He knew. But how recover, or revenge 

The loss? — new dangers, outrage, how avert? 

Infuriate were his people at the deed, 

For by the giants many had been slain, 

Ere they had won their prize. 'Gainst Merope, 

Some spake aloud ; against Orion, all, — 

Save the bald sage, who said "'Twas natural." 

"Natural!" they cried, " O wretch !" The sage was stoned. 

"Within his cave, in his accustomed place, 
With passive dignity that ever holds 
Unwise activity in check and awe — 
And active wisdom where the will 's not strong — 
Sat Akinetos, listening to the tale 
Thus by Rhexergon told ; Biastor leaning 
Against a rock, with folded arms, the while. 

" We from our trance with aching brows awoke 
Staring, and on our elbows raised, with chins 
Set in our hands, collected our mazed minds. 
We both had dreamed one dream. In Chios' walls 
A feast we held in honour of the king, 
Encolyon, newly chosen — as we thought — 



CAMTO III.] ORION. 75 

By the chief rulers, while Orion stood 

Chained to the throne. But Merope, 'twas said, 

Should still be his, if loyal, hand and soul. 

Yet ere Orion answered, rushing came 

A small dark shape — some airy messenger — 

Darting on all sides,, diving, nestling, leaping, 

Swift as a mullet coursing the sea hare, 

And strong, as when within the shore-hauled net 

It searches, like a keen hound, to and fro, 

And no gap finding, bounds o'er the high-drawn line : 

One leaps — all follow, like a flock of sheep 

Over a wattle. So, this headlong sprite, 

Which, in our dream, now multiplied to shoals, 

And thus confused the feasters. But what 'twas 

None saw, nor knew ; but all the feast they marred, 

While, in the place of meats and fruits, we found 

Dust — dry-baked dust ; the dust of the gone king, 

Encolyon — as a bird in the air screamed forth — 

By Phoibos smitten. Now a sound we heard, 

Like to some well-known voice in prayer ; and next 

An iron clang that seemed to break great bonds 

Beneath the earth, shook us to conscious life. 

A briny current passing through our hearts 

Stung all our faculties back to former power ; 



ORION. [book II. 

And as we rose, across a distant field 
We saw Orion coming with a sword. 
Our dream thus ended in reality 
Without a boundary line. What followed seemed 
Continuous, for Orion urged us on. 
Fresh work had he in hand ; few words explained ; 
And to GEnopion's city we repaired, 
Entering at eve of a great festival, 
I with a club, iron bound, of ponderous weight ; 
Biastor with a shield, forged by Orion, 
Whose disk enormous would protect all three, 
And, set with ray-like spikes around the rim, 
Looked like a fallen star. Onward we drove 
Behind this threatening orb, down- trampling all 
Who fled not, or our impulse strove to oppose ; 
Feasters and dancers, chieftains, priests, and guards ; 
I tell it as it happened — blow by blow- 
Till near a high tower, doubtful of our course 
At bay, like bulls, within a circle clear 
By terror made, we paused. The archers soon, 
With bow-arm forward thrust, on all sides twanged, 
Around, below, above. Behind the shield 
That on its spikes stood grimly, we retired, 
And heard the rattling storm ; when from the tower 



CANTO III.] ORION. 77 

A light flashed down one side, and at the top 
Stood Merope, who cried, * Orion, see ! 
My prison I have fired, and in my haste 
Fired first below. I cannot pass the flames !' 
E'en while she spake a hydra- wreath of smoke 
Ran coiling up the stony stair, and peered 
Into each chamber with its widening head, 
As if to seek its prey. Again she cried — 
' I will leap down into thine arms !' ' Forbear !' 
Shouted Orion, * First let us try our strength 
With skill.' I on the groaning gate-posts smote, 
Until their bolts and nails started like tusks 
From battered jaws, and inward sunk the gates, 
Crushing armed men behind. O'er all we passed. 
Orion, now in front, amidst a cloud 
Of smoke, dust, slaughter and confusing cries, 
The blackened slabs of winding stair ascended; 
And, in the same fierce uproar and dismay 
Of men, not fit to cope with sons of Gods, 
Unscathed came down with Merope. 'T was good. 
He bore her to the cedar grove afar, 
Where in brief space a palace he had built, 
While we, remaining midway, called a rout 
Around us, and great revel held that night." 



78 ORION. Tbook ii. 

Rhexergon ceased, while in the sunny air 
His large eyes shone, and, pleased with what he told — 
For well he spake with deep-voiced cadences — 
Looked like a monarch who hath made a verse. 
Now Akinetos spake. " Your efforts done, 
What good to ye is wrought ? To him, what good ? 
Not long will Merope be his : if long, 
What good, since both must tire. CEnopion, 
The king of ships and armies, may reclaim 
This Merope by force : perchance her own 
Inconstant will may save these ships and men." 
" If we defend the prize," Biastor said, 
" Substantial good unto ourselves were due ; 
Wise are thy words ; wherefore large terms of spoil 
We with Orion will in future make, 
That shall secure our constant revelry, 
As in Dodona, once, ere driven thence 
By Zeus, for that Rhexergon burnt some oaks. 
Thrust we the king from off his throne, or thrust 
His throne from under him to some fresh place 
Suiting our fancies, whereon we '11 sleep crowned, 
And feast, and order armies to march forth, 
And ships to sail, and music, and more feast." 



canto in.] ORION. 79 

" Better pull down the city, and destroy 
The fleet" — Rhexergon said — ■" Then, all despoiled — 
And made as slaves, — leave we our woodland homes : 
There live, with Akinetos for our king ? 
Aught we destroy Orion can rebuild, 
If we should need ; or frame aught else we need ; 
Rise, therefore, Akinetos, thou art king ! " 
So saying in his hand he placed a spear. 

As though against a wall 'twere set aslant, 
Flatly the long spear fell upon the ground. 
" He will not be a king ; nor will he aid 
Your purposes," murmured the Great Unmoved. 
" Autarces, Harpax, aided, and both died ; 
Orion's work will shortly work his end ; 
Encolyon, ever meddling to prevent, 
Wasted his mind and care, and found his death. 
Those who have wisdom aid not, nor prevent. 
Nought good has followed aught that ye have done, 
Nor will good follow aught that ye can do, 
Or I can do, or any one can do, / 

Except such good as of itself had come, 
Tf so 'twas ordered. Leave God to his work, 
g 2 



80 ORION. [book ii. 

The Supreme Mover of all things, and best, 

Who, if we move not, must himself sustain 

His scheme : hence, never moved by hands unskilled, 

But moved as best may be. Be warned ; sit still." 

Within the isle, far from the walks of men, 
Where jocund chase was never heard, nor hoof 
Of Satyr broke the moss, nor any bird 
Sang, save at times the nightingale — but only 
In his prolonged and swelling tones, nor e'er 
With wild joy and hoarse laughing melody, 
Closing the ecstasy, as is his wont, — 
A forest separate and far withdrawn 
From all the rest, there grew. Old as the earth, 
Of cedar was it, lofty in its glooms 
When the sun hung o'er head, and, in its darkness, 
Like Night when giving birth to time's first pulse. 
Silence had ever dwelt there ; but of late, 
Came faint sounds with a cadence regular 
From the far depths, as of a cataract 
Whose echoes midst incumbent foliage died. 
From one high mountain gushed a flowing stream, 
Which through the forest passed, and found a fall 
Within — none knew where — then rolled tow'rds the sea. 



CANTO III.] ORION 81 

There underneath the boughs, mark where the gleam 
Of sun-rise through the roofing's chasm is thrown 
Upon a grassy plot below, whereon 
The shadow of a stag stoops to the stream 
Swift rolling towards the cataract, and drinks deeply. 
Throughout the day unceasingly it drinks, 
While ever and anon the nightingale, 
Not waiting for the evening, swells his hymn — 
His one sustained and heaven-aspiring tone — 
And when the sun hath vanished utterly, 
Arm over arm the cedars spread their shade, 
With arching wrist and long extended hands, 
And grave-ward fingers lengthening in the moon, 
Above that shadowy stag whose antlers still 
Hung o'er the stream. Then came a rich- toned voice 
Out of the forest depths, and sang this lay, 
With deep speech intervalled and tender pause. 

" If we have lost the world what gain is ours ! 
Hast thou not built a palace of more grace 
Than marble towers ? These trunks are pillars rare, 
Whose roof embowers with far more grandeur. Say ; 
Hast thou not found a bliss with Merope, 
As full of rapture as existence new ? 



82 ORIOX [book ii. 

Tis thus with me. I know that thou art blest. 
Our inmost powers — fresh winged shall soar and dream 
In realms of honey-dew, whose air — light — flowers, 
Will ever be — though vague, most fair — most sweet — 

Better than memory. Look yonder, love ! 

What solemn image through the trunks is straying ? 

And now he doth not move, yet never turns 

On us his visage of 'rapt vacancy ! 

It is Oblivion. In his hand — though nought 

Knows he of this — a dusky purple flower 

Droops over its tall stem. Again, ah see ! 

He wanders into mist, and now is lost.- 

Within his brain what lovely realms of death . 

Are pictured, and what knowledge through the doors 

Of his forge tfulness of all the earth, 

A path may gain ? Then turn thee, love, to me : 

Was I not worth thy winning and thy toil, 

O, earth-born son of Ocean ! Melt to rain." 

No foot may enter 'midst these cedar glooms : 
Passion is there — a spell is on the place — 
It hath its own protecting atmosphere, 
Needing no walls nor bars. But Chios' king 
Hath framed his purpose ; the sworn instruments 






CANTO III.] ORION. 83 

Chosen ; and from the palace now depart 

In brazen chariots, richly armed, ten chiefs. 

" Watch well your moment !" — lastly spake the king ; 

*• Slay not outright — but make his future life 

A blot — a blank ! " They bent their high-plumed helms, 

And through the gates in thunder whirled away. 

Beyond the cedar forest lay the cliffs 
That overhung the beach, but midway swept 
Fair swelling lands, some green with brightest grass, 
Some golden in the sun. Mute was the scene, 
And moveless. Not a breeze came o'er the edge 
Of the high-heaving fields and fallow lands ; 
Only the zephyrs at long intervals 
Drew a deep sigh, as of some blissful thought, 
Then swooned to silence. Not a bird was seen, 
Nor heard : all marbly gleamed the steadfast sky. 
Hither Orion slowly walked alone, 
And passing round between tw r o swelling slopes 
Of green and golden light, beheld afar 
The broad grey horizontal wall b* the dead-calm sea. 

O'ersteeped in bliss ; prone on its ebbing tide ; 
With hope's completeness vaguely sorrowful, 



84 ORION. [book ii. 

And sense of life -bounds too enlarged ; his thoughts 
Sank faintly through each other, fused and lost, 
Till his o'ersatisfied existence drooped ; 
Like fruit-boughs heavily laden above a stream, 
In which they gaze so closely on themselves, 
That, touching, they grow drowsy, and submerge, 
Losing all vision. Sense of thankful prayers 
Came over him, while downward to the shore 
Slowly his steps he bent, seeking to hold 
Communion with his sire. The eternal Sea 
Before him passively at full length lay, 
As in a dream of the marmoreal heavens. 
With hands stretched forward thus his prayer began ; 

" Receive Poseidon !" but no further words 

Found utterance. And again he prayed, and said, 

" Receive, O Sire !" yet still the emotion ros£ 

Too full for words, and with no meaning clear. 
He turned, and sinking on a sandy mound, 
With dim look o'er the sea, deeply he slept. 

What altars burn afar — what smoke arises 
Beyond the swelling lands above the cliffs ? 
Or is it but a rolling cloud of dust 
That onward moves, driven by the wind? And now 



GANTO III.] ORION. 85 

A rumbling sound is gathering in the breeze, 
And nearer swells — now dies away — like wheels 
That pass from stony ground to grassy plains. 
Again ! — it rings and jars — and passing swift 
Along the cliffs, till lost in a ravine, 
Five brazen chariots fling the sunset rays 
Angrily back upon the startled air ! 
In one, the last, struggles a lovely form, 
Half pinioned by a chieftain's broidered scarf, 
Her wild black tresses coiling round an arm 
Which still she raises, striving to make a sign. 
All disappeared. No voice, no sound was heard. 
The moon arose — and still Orion slept,— 
The profound sleep of life's satiety, 
In him whose senses else had quick regained 
The sure protection of his healthy powers. 

Forth from a dark chasm issue figures armed. 
Close conference they hold, like ravens met 
For ominous talk of death. No more : their shields, 
Plumed helms, and swords, two chieftains lay aside, 
Then stoop, and softly creep tow'rds him who sleeps ; 
While o'er their -heads the long protecting spears 
Are held by seven, who noiselessly and slow 



86 ORION. 

Follow their stealthy progress. Step by step 
The deadly crescent moves behind the twain, 
Who, flat as reptiles, and with face thrust out, 
Breathless, all senses sharpen. Now ! — 't is done ! 
The poison fails upon the dreamer's lids. 

Away, aghast at their own evil deed, 
As though some dark curse on themselves had fallen, 
Flashed the mailed moon -lit miscreants into shade, 
Like fish at sudden dropping of a stone. 
The Moon now hid her face. The sea-shore lay 
In hollowness beneath the rising stars, 
And blind Orion, starting at once erect 
Amid his darkness, with extended arms 
And open mouth that uttered not a word, 
Stood statue-like, and heard the Ocean moan. 









D EI ©Mo 



©RIONc 



Canto tf)e dftv^t. 



There is an age of action in the world ; 

An age of thought ; lastly, an age of both, 

When thought guides action and men know themselves, 

What they would have, and how to compass it. 

Yet are not these great periods so distinct 

Each from the other, — or from all the rest 

Of intermediate degrees and powers, 

Cut off, — but that strong links of nature run 

Throughout, and prove one central heart, wherein 

Time beats twin-pulses with Humanity. 

In every age an emblem and a type, 

Premature, single, ending with itself, 

Of future greatness in an after-time, 

May germinate, develop, radiate, 

And like a star go out and leave no mark 

Save a high memory. One such is our theme. 



90 ORION. O 

. The wisdom of mankind creeps slowly on, 
Subject to every doubt that can retard, 
Or fling it back upon an earlier time ; 
So timid are man's footsteps in the dark, 
But blindest those who have no inward light. 
One mind, perchance, in every age contains 
The sum of all before, and much to come ; 
Much that's far distant still ; but that full mind, 
Companioned oft by others of like scope, 
Belief, and tendency, and anxious will, 
A circle small transpierces and illumes : 
Expanding, soon its subtle radiance 
Falls blunted from the mass of flesh and bone, 
The man who for his race might supersede 
The work of ages, dies worn out — not used, 
And in his track disciples onward strive, 
Some hairs' -breadths onty from his starting point : 
Yet lives he not in vain ; for if his soul 
Hath entered others, though imperfectly, 
The circle widens as the world spins round, — 
His soul works on while he sleeps 'neath the grass. 
So, let the firm Philosopher renew 
His wasted lamp — the lamp wastes not in vain, 
Though he no mirrors for its rays may see, 
Nor trace them through the darkness ; — let the Hand 
Which feels primeval impulses, direct 



canto i j ORION 91 

A forthright plough, and make his farrow broad, 
With heart untiring while one field remains ; 
So, let the herald Poet shed his thoughts, 
Like seeds that seem but lost upon the wind. 
Work in the night, thou sage, while Mammon's brain 
Teems with low visions on his couch of down ; — 
Break, thou, the clods while high-throned Vanity, 
Midst glaring lights and trumpets, holds its court ; — 
Sing, thou, thy song amidst the stoning crowd, 
Then stand apart, obscure to man, with God. 
The poet of the future knows his place, 
Though in the present shady be his seat, 
And all his laurels deepening but the shade. 

But what is yonder vague colossal shape, 
That like a burdened giant bending moves, 
With outspread arms groping its upward way 
Along a misty hill ? In the blear shades, 
Sad twilight, and thick dews darkening the paths 
Whereon the slow dawn hath not yet advanced 
A chilly foot, nor tinged the colourless air — 
The labouring figure fades as it ascends. 

'T was he, the giant builder-up of things, 
And of himself, now blind : the worker great, 
Who sees no more the substance near his hands, 



92 



ORION. [book in. 

Nor in them, nor the objects that his mind 
Desires and would embody. All is dark. 
It is Orion now bereft of sight, 
Whose eyes aspired to luminous designs. 
The sun and moon and stars are blotted out, 
With their familiar glories, which become 
Henceforth like chronicles remote. The earth 
Forbids him to cleave deep and trace her roots, 
And veins, and quarries : Whose wide purposes 
Are narrowed now into the safest path : 
Whose lofty visions are all packed in his brain, 
As though the heavens no further could unfold 
Their wonders, but turned inward on themselves ; 
Like a bright flower that closes in the night 
For the last time, and dreams of by-gone suns 
Ne'er to be clasped again : Thou art reduced 
To ask for sympathy and to need help ; 
Stooping to pluck up pity from all soils — 
Bitterest of roots that round pride's temple grow — 
Losing self-centred power, and in its place 
Pressed with humiliation almost down : 
Whose soul had in one passion been absorbed, 
Which, though illimitable in itself, 
Profound and primal, yet had wrapped him round 
Beyond advance, or further use of hand, 



CANTO I.] ORION. 93 

Purpose and service to the needy earth : 
Whose passion, being less than his true scope, 
Had lowered his life and quelled aspiring dreams, 
But that it led to blindness and distress, 
Self-pride's abasement, more extensive truth, 
A higher consciousness and efforts new. 

In that dark hour when anguished he awoke, 
Orion from the sea-shore made his way, 
Feeling from cliff to cliff, from tree to tree, 
Guided by knowledge of the varied tracks 
Of land, — the rocks, the mounds of fern, the grass, 
That 'neath his feet made known each spot he passed, — 
Hill, vale and woodland ; till he reached the caves, 
Once his rude happy dwelling. All was silent. 
Rhexergon and Biastor were abroad, 
Searching the jasper quarries for a lynx 
That had escaped the wreck. Deeply he sighed. 
The quiet freshness came upon his heart, 
Not sweetly, but with aching sense of loss. 
He felt his way, and listened at the cave 
Of Akinetos, whom he heard within 
Sing to himself. And Akinetos rose, 
Perceiving he was blind, and with slow care 
Rolled forth a stone, and placed him by his side. 

H 



94 ORION. [book in 

Orion's tale soon closed ; its outward acts 
And sad results, were all that he could speak : 
The rest writhed inwardly, and, — like the leads 
That sink the nets and all the struggles hide, 
Till a strong hand drags forth the prize, — his words 
Kept down the torment, uttered all within 
In hurrying anguish. Yet the clear, cold eye, 
Grey, quiet, steady, of the Great Unmoved, 
Saw much of this beneath, and thus he spake. 

" My son, why wouldst thou ever work and build, 
And so bestir thy self, when certain grief, 
Mischief, or error, and not seldom death, 
Follows on all that individual will 
Can of itself attain. I told thee this ; 
Nor for reproach repeat it, but to soothe 
Thy mind with consciousness that not in thee 
Was failure born. Its law preceded thine : 
It governs every act, which needs must fail — 
I mean, give place — to make room for the next. 
Each thinks he fails, because he thinks himself 
A chain and centre, not a link that runs 
In large and complex circles, all unknown. 
Sit still. Remain with me. No difference 
Will in the world be found : 't will know no change, 



CANTO I.] ORION. 95 

Be sure. Say that an act hath been ordained ? 

Some hand must do it : therefore do not move : 

An instrument of action must be found, 

And you escape both toil and consequence, 

Which run their rounds with restless fools ; for ever 

One act leads to another, and disturbs 

Man's rest, and Reason — which foresees no end." 

" I feel that thou art wise" Orion said ; 
" The worker ever comes to thee cast down ! 
Who with alacrity would frame, toil, build, 
If he had wisdom in results, like thee ? 
Would Strength life's soil upheave, though close it clung, 
And heavy, like a spade that digs in clay, 
Therein to plant roots certain not to grow 1 
Oh miserable man ! Oh fool of hope ! 
All I have done has wrought me no fixt good, 
But grief more bitter as the bliss was sweet, 
Because so fleeting. Why did Artemis 
Me from my rough and useful life withdraw ? 
O'er wood and iron I had mastery, 
And hunted shadows knowing they were shades, 
Since then, my intellect she filled, and taught me 
To hunt for lasting truth in the pale moon. 
Such proved my love for her ; and such hath proved 
h 2 



96 ORION. [book hi, 

My love for Merope, to me now lost. 

I will remain here : I will build no more." 

He paused ; but Akinetos was asleep. 
Wherefore Orion at his feet sank down, 
Tired of himself, of grief, and all the world, 
And also slept. Ere dawn he had a dream : 
'T was hopeful, lovely, though of no clear sense 
He said " Methinks it must betoken good ; 
Some help from Artemis, who may relent. 
And think of me as one she sought to lift 
To her own sphere of purity ; or, indeed, 
Some God may deem me worthy of a fate 
Better than that which locks up all design 
In pausing night. Perchance, the dream may bode 
That Merope shall be to me restored, 
And I see nature through her death-deep eyes, 
And know the glorious mysteries of the grave, 
Which through extremes of blissful passion's life 
Methought I saw. Oh wherefore am I blind ? " 
" Abandon all such hopes of Merope" 
Murmured the Great Unmoved : "her truth was strong, 
First to herself, and through herself to thee, 
While that it lasted ; but that 's done and gone. 
How should she love a giant w ho is blind, 



CANTO I.] ORION. 97 

And sees no beauty but the secret heart 

Panting in darkness ? That is not her world." 

Orion rose erect. * * She is not false — 

Although she may forget. I will go forth : 

I may find aid, or cause some help to come 

That shall restore my sight." The sage replied, 

" Thou 'st seen enough already, and too much 

For happiness. This passion prematurely 

Endeth ; and therefore endeth as seems best, 

Ere it wear out itself with languor and pain, 

Or prostrate all thy mind to its small use — 

Far worse, methinks." " Hast thou," Orion cried, 

" No impulses — desires — no promptings kind ? " 

The sage his memory tasked ; then slow replied : 

" Once I gave water to a thirsting plant : 

'T was a weak moment with us both. Next morn^ 

It craved the like — but I, for * Nature ' calling, 

Passed on. It drooped — then died, and rotted soon, 

And living things, more highly organized, 

With quick eyes and fine horns, reproached my hand 

Which had delayed their birth. What wrong we do 

By interfering with life's balanced plan ! 

Do nothing — wait— and all that must come, comes ! " 

Silent awhile they stood. Orion sighed, 

" I know thy words are wise — " and went his way. 



98 ORION. [book in. 

The blindness of their leader, and his woe, 
Now had Rhexergon and Biastor learnt, 
And thoughts of plunder cried out for revenge, 
Which on CEnopion they proposed to wreak, 
And make good pastime round his ruined throne. 
" Revenge is useless" Akinetos said : 
" It undoes nothing, and prevents repentance 
Which might advantage others." Both replied, 
" Thou speakest truth and wisdom ;" and at eve 
Departed for the city, bent to choose 
Some rebel chieftains for their aid, or slaves, 
Or robbers who inhabited the rocks 
North of the isle. A great revenge they vowed. 

And where was Merope ? The cruel deed 
Her sire had compassed for Orion's fall, 
Smote through her full breast, and at every beat 
Entered her heart ; nor settled there, but coursed 
Through all her veins in anguish. Her despair 
Was boundless, many days, until her strength 
Worn with much misery and the need of sleep, 
Gave way, and slumber opened 'neath her soul, 
Like an abyss. The deed, beyond recall, 
Was done. She woke, and thought on this with grief. 
The cruel separation, and the loss 



I.] ORION. 9V 

Of sight, had been completed. Nothing now 

Of passion past remained but memory, 

Which soon grew painful ; and her thoughts oft turned 

For some relief, to listen to the songs 

That minstrels sung, sent by the youthful king 

Of Syros, rich in pastures and in corn. 

Beardless he was, dwarf-shaped, and delicate, 

Freckled and moled, with saffron tresses fair ; 

Yet were his minstrels touched with secret fires, 

And beauty was the theme of all their lays. 

Of her they sung — sole object of desire — 

And with rare presents the pale king preferred 

His suit for Merope. Her sire approved ; — 

Invited him ; — he came ; — and Merope 

With him departed in a high-beaked ship ; 

And as it sped along, she closely pressed 

The rich globes of her bosom on the side, 

O'er which she bent with those black eyes, and gazed 

Into the sea that fled beneath her face. 

All this Orion heard : his blind eyes wept. 
Now was each step a new experiment ; 
Within him all was care ; without, all chance ; 
Dark doubts sat in his brain ; danger prowled round. 
He wandered lost and lone, and often prayed. 



100 ORION. [book in. 

Standing beside the tree 'neath which he slept, 
And would have offered pious sacrifice, 
But that himself a victim blindly strayed. 
His forehead 's dark with wrinkles premature 
Of vexing action ; his cheek scored all down 
With debts of will that never can be paid ; 
Chagrin, pain, disappointment, and wronged heart. 
At length, one day, some shepherd as he passed, 
With voice that mingled with the bleat of lambs, 
Cried " Seek the source of light ! — begin anew!" 

On went he thinking, pausing, listening, 
Till sounds smote on his ear, whereby he knew 
That near the subterranean palace gates 
Which for Hephaestos he of iron had framed, 
His feet approached. He entered there, and found 
Brontes, the cyclops, whom he straight besought 
His shoulders to ascend, and guide his course 
Eastward, to meet the Morning as she rose. 
'Twas done. Their hazy forms erewhile we saw. 

Swift down the misty eastern hill, whose top 
Through broken vapours, swooning as they creep 
Along the edges into the wide heavens, 
Shews Morn's first ruddy gleam, a shape uncouth, 



CANTO I] ORION. 101 

And lumbering forward in half- falls -and bounds, 
Comes with tossed arms ! The Cyclops hoar with rime, 
His coarse hair flying, through the wet woods ran, 
And in the front of Akinetos' cave 
Shouting with gladness and resounding life, 
Performed a hideous but full-hearted dance. 
" Dance, rocks and forests ! Akinetos dance ! 
The Worker and the Builder hath his sight ! 
Ho ! ho ! come forth — with either eye he sees ! 
Come forth, O Akinetos — laugh ye rocks !" 

A shadow o'er the face of him who sat 
Within that cave, passed, — lightly wrinkling 
The ledge-like brow, which, though of granite, smoothed, 
Not vexed, by ocean's tempests, now relaxed, 
As it would say " I pity this return 
Of means for seeking fresh distress ;" — and then, 
The broad great features their fixed calm resumed. 

'T was thus Orion fared ; and this the scene. 
Fast through the clouds retiring, the pale orb 
Of Artemis a moment seemed to hang 
Suspended in a halo, phantom-like, 
Over a restless sea of jasper fire, 
While bending forward tow'rds the eastern mount, 



102 ORION. [book in. 

She gazed and hearkened. Soon the fervent, voice 
Of one who prayed beneath amid the mist, 
Rose thrilling on the air ; and onward slow 
Her car its voyage held, and waned more pale 
And distant, as the prayer ascended heaven. 

" Eos ! blest Goddess of the Morning, hear 
The blind Orion praying on thy hill, 
And in thine odorous breath his spirit steep, 
That he, the soft gold of thy gleaming hand 
Passing across his heavy lids, sealed down 
With weight of many nights, and night-like days, 
May feel as keenly as a new-born child, 
And, through it ? learn as purely to behold 
The face of nature. Oh restore my sight !" 

His prayer paused tremulous. O'er his brow he felt 
A balmy beam, that with its warmth conveyed 
Divine suffusion and deep sense of peace 
Throughout his being ; and amidst a pile, 
Far in the distance, gleaming like the bloom 
Of almond trees seen through long floating halls 
Of pale ethereal blue and virgin gold, 
A Goddess, smiling like a new-blown flower, 
Orion saw ! And as he gazed he wept. 



i.] ORION. 103 

The tears ran mingling with the morning dews 
Down his thick locks. At length once more he spake. 

" Blest Eos ! mother of the hopeful star, 
Which I, with sweet joy, take into my soul ; 
Star-rays that first played o'er my blinded orbs, 
E'en as they glance above the lids of Sleep, 
Who else had never known surprise, nor hope, 
Nor useful action ; Golden Visitant, 
So lovely and benign, whose eyes drive home 
Night's foulest ghosts, and men as foul ; who bring'st 
Not only my redemption, but who art 
The intermediate beauty that unites 
The fierce Sun with the Earth, and moderates 
His beams with dews and tenderness and smiles ; 
O bird-awakener ! giver of fresh life, 
New hopes, or to old hopes new wings, — receive 
Within thy care, one who with many things 
Is weary, and though nought in energy 
Abated for good work, would seek thine aid 
To some fresh course and service for his hand ; 
Of peace, meantime, and steadfast truth, secure!" 



©IRIOMc 



Canto tt)E §?etanO. 






Level with the summit of that eastern mount, 
By slow approach, and like a promontory 
Which seems to glide and meet a coming ship, 
The pale gold platform of the Morning came 
Towards the gliding mount. Against a sky 
Of delicate purple, snow-bright courts and halls, 
Touched with light silvery green, gleaming across, 
Fronted by pillars vast, cloud capitalled, 
With shafts of changeful pearl, all reared upon 
An isle of clear aerial gold, came floating ; 
And in the centre, clad in fleecy white, 
With lucid lilies in her golden hair, 
Eos, sweet Goddess of the Morning, stood. 



ORION. 1 05 

From the bright peak of that surrounded mount, 
One step sufficed to gain the golden floor, 
Whereon the Palace of the Morning shone, 
Scarcely a bow-shot distant ; but that step, 
Orion's humbled and still mortal feet 
Dared not adventure. In the Goddess' face 
Imploringly he gazed. " Advance ! " she said, 
In tones more sweet than when some heavenly bird, 
Hid in a rosy cloud, its morning hymn 
Warbles unseen, wet with delicious dews, 
And to earth's flowers, all looking up in prayer, 
Tells of the coming bliss. u Believe — advance — 
Or, as the spheres move onward with their song 
That calls me to awaken other lands, 
That moment will escape which ne'er returns." 
Forward Orion stepped : the platform bright 
Shook, like the reflex of a star in water 
Moved by the breeze, throughout its whole expanse ; 
And e'en the palace glistened fitfully, 
As with electric shiver it sent forth 
Odours of flowers divine and all fresh life. 
Still stood he where he stepped, nor to return 
Attempted. To essay one pace beyond, 
He felt no power — yet onward he advanced 



106 ORION. ■ [book in. 

Safe to the Goddess, who, with hand outstretched, 
Into the palace led him. Grace and strength, 
With sense of happy change to finer earth, 
Freshness of nature, and belief in good, 
Came flowing o'er his soul, and he was blest. 

'T is always morning somewhere in the world, 
And Eos ever rises, circling 
The varied regions of mankind. No pause 
Of renovation and of freshening rays 
She knows, but constantly her love breathes forth 
On field and forest, as on human hope, 
Health, beauty, power, thought, action and advance. 
All this Orion witnessed, and rejoiced. 
The turmoil he had known, the late distress 
By loss of passion's object, and of sight, 
Were now exchanged for these serene delights 
Of contemplation, as the influence 
That Eos wrought around for ever, dawned 
Upon his vision and his inmost heart, 
In sweetness and success. All sympathy 
With all fair things that in her circle lay, 
She gave, and all received ; nor knew of strife ; 
For from the Sun her cheek its bloom withdrew, 



► ii] ORION. 107 

And, ere intolerant noon, the floating realm 

Of Eos — queen of the awakening earth — 

Was brightening other lands, wherefrom black Night 

Her faded chariot down the sky had driven 

Behind the sea. Thus from the earth upraised, 

And over its tumultuous breast sustained 

In peace and tranquil glory — oh blest state ! — 

Clear-browed Orion, full of thankfulness, 

And pure devotion to the Goddess, dwelt 

Within the glowing Palace of the Morn. 

But these serene airs did not therefore bring 
A death-sleep o'er the waves of memory, 
Where all its clouds and colours, specks of sails, 
Its car-borne Gods, shipwrecks and drowning men, 
Passed full in view ; yet with a mellowing sense 
Ideal, and from pain sublimed. Thus came 
Mirrors of nature to him, and full oft 
Downward on Chios turned his happy eyes, 
With grateful thoughts that o'er life's sorrows wove 
The present texture of a sweet content, 
Passing all wisdom, or its rarest flower. 
He saw the woods, and blessed them for the sake 
Of Artemis ; the city, and rich gloom 



108 ORION. [book ur. 

That o'er the cedar forest ever hung, 

He also blessed for Merope ; the isle, 

And all that dwelt there, he with smiles beheld, — 

Nor, it may be, without prophetic thrill 

When on Mount Epos turned his parting glance. 

There, in an after age, close at its foot, 

In the stone level was a basin broad 

Scooped out, and central on a low shaft sat 

A sage with silver hair, and taught his school, 

Where the boy Homer on the stony rim 

Sat with the rest around. Bright were his eyes. 

With re-awakened love, and sight enlarged » 
For all things beautiful, and nobly true 
To the great elements that rule the world, 
Orion's mind, left to itself, reviewed 
Past knowledge, and of wisdom saw the fruit 
Far nearer than before, the path less rough, 
The true possession not austere and cold, 
But natural in its strength and balance just 
Of body and of soul ; each to respect, 
And to the other minister, and both 
Their one harmonious being to employ 
For general happiness, and for their own. 



CANTO II.] ORION. 109 

Such was the lore which now his thoughts attained, 

And he to Eos ventured to display, 

Beseeching her response ? She only gazed 

With an approving smile upon the earth, 

That rolled beneath, and rendered back the gleam 

With tender radiance over many a field. 

The story of his life Orion told — 
His youth — his labours — lastly of his loves ; 
Nor what for Artemis his opening soul 
Had felt — what deep desire for Merope — 
Sought to conceal. How much his intellect, 
And entire nature, owed to the pale Queen 
Of night's illumined vault, with grateful sighs 
Of reverential memory he declared ; 
To Eos turning with a pleading look, 
Lest she might not approve. She took his hand, 
And placed it on her side beneath her heart, 
Which beat a sphery music audibly. 
He, listening, still enraptured, countless echoes, 
Rang sweetly faint from distant groves beneath 
Upon the earth. Within his hurrying heart 
The trembling echoes now Orion felt, 
And silent stood as one who apprehends 



1 1 ORION. [book in. 

Some new and blissful hope that round him soars, 
Which still eludes his vision and his mind. 

Not in like doubt was Artemis, whose car — 
Blank as it passed away before the morn, 
Herself invisible — collapsed and yearned 
Beneath the Goddess' spurning foot. At once 
The lasting love of Eos she foresaw, 
When at the tale of other loves he told 
Sincerely, fully, with kind memories rife, 
Orion's hand she pressed. His earnest eyes 
All filled with new-born light, she also read, 
As in a mirror where the future 's writ — 
And, reading, closed her own as she retired. 



Meantime Rhexergon through the Chian streets 
Triumphant, with Biastor and a host 
Of rebel chieftains and their armed bands, 
And drunken slaves and robbers, drove the king 
From his lost throne. Beyond the suburb fields 
(Enopion fled, and secret refuge found 
Among the tombs beneath a chain of hills, 
Where dense cold gloom his robe and crown became, 
While over-head along the hill-sides ran 






caxto ii.] ORION. 1 1 ] 

The sunny vines. Tumult now choaked the city 
With adverse crowds, and deafened it with cries 
Of slayers, and of those who fled or fell. 
The giants led the slaughter, oft commencing 
Pillage, then turning yet again to slay, 
Having- no plan. They paused but to blaspheme 
The Gods, like giants doomed to die. Rich spoil 
Was found, seized, left — and trampled into mire 
By feet that onward sprang for other spoil, 
Or to tear down, wrench, overthrow, destroy ; 
Till thus Rhexergon rendered up his life. 



All the chief rulers, priests, and sages old, 
And heroes most renowned, Rhexergon vowed 
Within the temple of Zeus to congregate ; 
Wall up each means of egress, and from a gap 
Made in the roof, pour down a rocky hail 
From broken fanes, cliff, quarry and sea-beach, 
Upon their heads ; nor cease the rattling shower 
Until the temple was filled up with stones. 
To make the gap, he with his club advanced, 
Where central, 'neath the roof, a pillar rose, 
Which was its main support. Blow upon blow 
i 2 



112 ORION. [book in. 

He smote ; the base gave way ; the pillar fell ; 
And with it fell the roof, and buried him. 

With equal skill Biastor wrought his fate. 
On a long terrace, which precipitously 
Looked down on suburb gardens deep below, • 
Near to the edge upon a pediment stood 
A great gilt statue to Encolyon, 
By the high rulers reverently set up ; 
And this inscription bearing on its base ; — 
" To the Wheel-chainer ! Reiner-in of steeds ! 
August preserver of revered decay ; 
Yotive — erected by a people's love. 5 ' 

Biastor, covered with a brazen shield, 
Whirling his sword, and seeing not his way, 
A panic-stricken crowd before him drove 
On tow'rds the parapet. Thence to escape, 
Some desperately rush back — are cloven down — 
The rest throng round the statue. It was carved 
Of wood, and at its flat square base the sun 
Had often turned a scornful glance, and made 
Dry flaws, wherein had crept and nestled, rot. 
They cling around its knees ! — the giant Force 



CANTO II.] ORION. 113 

Comes like a mighty wind ; — and, as a mast 

In shipwreck, black with rigging flanking loose, 

And black with wild-haired creatures clinging round, 

With crash and horrid slant its blasted tree 

Surrenders sidelong, — so the statue fell. 

With it the crowd were carried ; after it 

Biastor, knowing not the depths beyond, 

Or his strong impulse having no power to check, 

Followed head foremost. Down the hollow banks 

He, floundering o'er the statue's 'tangled coil, 

Into an orchard 'midst the vale below, 

Deep in the mould lay prone ; and over him 

The fallen statue lay athwart. J T was thus, 

The Builder absent, and at that time blind, 

Foree, and the Breaker-down their course fulfilled. 

" What have I done on earth ?" Orion said, 
While pensive on the platform of the morn 
He stood. " My youth's companions are destroyed, 
And Akinetos evermore seems right, 
Predicting failure to our human acts : 
Or good, or ill, alike untow r ard prove. 
I have not well directed mine own strength, 
Nor theirs." As thus he mused, a skylark sang 



114 ORION. [book in. 

Within the gleaming Palace, and a voice 
Followed melodious as it spake these words. 

" Well hast thou striven, and due reward shalt find ; 
For though reward held dalliance with thy hopes 
Of former days, and for thyself thou wrought'st* 
The suffering and the lesson have sufficed 
To fit thee for more nohle aims. Sigh not 
That those companions of thine unformed youth, 
Their rude career have closed : evil was all 
They could have done without thee. Thou hast won 
The love of Eos ; doubt not of her truth, 
And to thyself be constant, as to her." 

He turned, and at his side the Goddess smiled, 
With tenderness of grace, such as the soul 
Can through the heart convey, where both accord 
One object to exalt. Orion knelt, 
And looked up in her face, then rose and clasped 
Her yielding loveliness. As they retired, 
An eye glanced fire-like through the clear blue air, 
And saw the embrace ! — and marked the glowing beams 
On Eos' bosom, rosy yet all gold, 
Like ripened peaches in the morning light. 



canto ii.] ORION. 115 

That eye grew deadly — flashed — and it was gone, 
As onward in its course the Palace moved. 
'T was Artemis ! — beware her fatal dart. 

O'er meadows green or solitary lawn, 
When birds appear earth's sole inhabitants, 
The long clear shadows of the morning differ 
From those of eve, which are more soft and vague, 
Suggestive of past days and mellowed grief. 
The lights of morning, even as her shades, 
Are architectural, and pre-eminent 
In quiet freshness, midst the pause that holds 
Prelusive energies. All life awakes. 
Morn comes at first with white uncertain light ; 
Then takes a faint red, like an opening bud 
Seen through grey mist: the mist clears off; the sky 
Unfolds ; grows ruddy ; takes a crimson flush ; 
Puts forth bright sprigs of gold, — which soon expanding 
In saffron, thence pure golden shines the morn ; 
Uplifts its clear bright fabric of white clouds, 
All tinted, like a shell of polished pearl, 
With varied glancings, violet gleam and blush ; 
Embraces Nature ; and then passes on, 
Leaving the Sun to perfect his great work. 



116 



ORION. 



[BOOK III. 



So came thy love upon Orion's heart, 
Oh life -awakening Queen of early light, 
And the devotion he, at first, had deemed 
All spiritual, now warmed, filled, attained 
Entire vitality, and that highest state 
Which every noblest faculty employs 
With self-enjoyment and beneficence. 



True happiness no idle course endures, 
But by activity renews its strength, 
Which else would fail, and happiness revolve 
Within itself, still dwindling to the point 
Where pain first stings. Far otherwise it fared 
With thee, Orion. Watchful tow'rds the world 
His eye oft turned. The pure realm where he dwelt 
Absorbed not all his sympathies in itself, 
Which yet sprang forth, and sighed o'er ills below : 
Like one uplifted in abstraction's mood, 
Who sits alone, and gazes in the fire, 
Watching red ruins as they fall and change 
To glorious fabrics, — which forthwith dissolve, 
Or by some hideous conflict sink to nought, 
While from a black mass issues tawny smoke, 
Followed by a trumpet flame. War, and the waste, 



CANTO II] ORION. 117 

So far as individual life and purpose feels, 
Of human labour, — both its hand and heart — 
Came crowding on his mind. Nor less his eye 
Earth's loveliness perceived ; nor less his thoughts 
Of Eos, who in all his fresh designs, 
Feelings, and wishes, shared, and urged him on 
With constant impulse, hidden in sweet smiles, 
And perfect love that thinks not of itself; — 
Conscious, contented, sphered beyond fresh hopes. 
Earth was their child ; and constant morn their home, 



Three things Orion contemplated oft : 
The first, his gratitude to Artemis 
Inspired ; its general service and import 
To human happiness, a duty made. 
Her temple in Delos darkened to the east 
With towering trees, amidst whose hollowed roots 
Dwelt poisonous Harpies. These to dislodge, destroy, 
And hew the trees down, that the morning light, 
Followed by radiant warmth, might penetrate 
Its depths, even to the temple's central shrine, 
He purposed. Thus would Eos giye her love 
To Artemis, and all be reconciled. 



118 ORION. 

His second purpose this : beneath the earth, 
So might the Father of the Gods give aid, 
To build a dungeon for the God of War, 
Wherein, confined in a tumultuous sleep, 
The visions of his madness should present 
The roar of battles and its sanguine joys, 
Its devastations, glories, and vain graves. 
Here might he gloat on death, while o'er his head 
The sea- wide corn fields, smiled in golden waves. 

The last, would need Poseidon's trident hand, 
Which, fervent prayers and filial offerings 
Would fail not to obtain ; whereby a blow, — 
Such as had lifted out of the frothed sea 
Delos, — Kalliste, with its fathomless bay, — 
Mountains, and coral rocks, — repeated oft, 
Might many mountains cause at once to rise, 
Higher and higher, till their summits kissed 
The clouds. Then Eos, casting forth her robe 
From peak to peak, and her immortal breath 
Combining and sustaining that bright floor, 
A web of perfect skill, and guileless art, 
Unlike the dark artificers below, — 
Large space for mortals of the earth would thus 



[book hi. 



o ii.] ORION. 119 

Be lifted to the platform of the morn. 

There, by the Goddess beckoned, and beholding 

Her face, divine in youth, the lengthened toil 

Of the ascent, were but a test of worth, 

And hollow sounds of roaring from the sea 

Beneath, cause none, who should ascend, to fall. 

To Delos now Orion made descent 
With Eos, hand in hand, when lofty Night 
Advanced her shadowy shoulder on the sky. 
Good speed made he with his well-practised hand ; 
The Harpies slew ; the eastward trees hewed down ; 
And laid the temple open to the morn, 
With all her genial beams. Then Eos first 
Felt doubt ; and trembled as she saw the fane 
Gleam with her presence, glancing like the light 
Within an angry eye -ball. A keen breeze 
Now whistled all around, and as it rose 
The high green corn, like rapids tow'rds a fall, 
Flowed, wave on wave, before the strenuous wind. 
She gazed with a cold cheek, till underneath 
The sea, she heard the coming Sun rejoice ; 
And felt the isle for blest events prepare. 
Yet was she silent. The untended Sun, 



120 ORION. [book m. 

While Eos lingered midst the southern groves, 
Made Delos vocal to its lowest roots. 
Yet stood she with Orion in the shade, 
Who noting not her tender, anxious face, 
In generous feelings happy, took his rest. 

Midst songs and garlands and uplifted joy, 
Day's bright dream sped. Night came ; but not the Moon. 
Night passed. Two spectral armies in the air 
Appeared,, and with mute fury fought; then died 
In mist. A cloud of pale and livid blue, 
Lit from behind, hangs low amid the west ! 



What scarce-apparent ray ! what wavering light 
Down glances, arching through the silent vault ! 
Again it flies ! — and yet again the ray ! 
The omen and the deed unite — in death ! 
Into the grove, and to the self-same spot 
The darts flew ! They thy naked breast have reached, 
O, Giant ! child-like in thy truthfulness, 
Yet full of noblest gifts, and hard-earned skill ; 
Cut off when love was perfect, and in the midst 
Of all thy fresh designs for human weal, 
To make the morning feel itself in vain, 



CANTO II.] ORION. 121 

And men turn pale who never shed a tear ! 

Thy task is finished — thou canst work no more — 

Thy Maker takes thee, for he loved thee well. 

Haggard and chill as a lost ghost, the Morn, 
With hair unbraided and unsand ailed feet, — 
Her colourless robe like a poor wandering smoke, — 
Moved feebly up the heavens, and in her arms 
A shadowy burden heavily bore ; soon fading 
In a dark rain, through which the sun arose 
Scarce visible, and in his orb confused. 



©RKDNc 



Canto fyc Crjtrtr* 



Strong Spirit of Nature ! if with pious hand, 
Of all humanity sensitive, and true 
To the first heart of childhood, thou hast striven 
Good to effect, and seemingly hast failed, 
Lament it, not ; that impulse on the frame 
Of the dense earth, which no result displays, 
Effect or consciousness, not utterly 
Shall turn aside, and glancing into space 
Be lost and cast away. As with a thought 
That, dormant in the brain well nigh a score 
Of years, will suddenly, we know not how, 
Rise bright before the mind, thus recognized 
As that so long forgotten, — while two brains 
Entire, have their material parts used up, 



ORION. 123 

Given off, and changed for new ; — so shall the deeds 

Of virtuous power, in their appointed day, 

Rise with due strength above the buried hand 

That called them first to light. Know this, and hope : 

The earth has hard rind, but a subtle heart. 

Therefore amidst those shadows, by no form 

Projected ; which in secret regions flit, 

Of future being, through unnumbered states, 

Which are most truly the substantial dreams, 

Nor less the aspirations most unearthly, 

Of man ; shadows oft hunted, never caught, 

Yet traced beyond the grave ; to thought well known ; 

Amidst these shadows stride not thou forlorn, 

O Giant sublime, whom death shall not destroy. 

"f was eve, and Time his vigorous course pursuing, 
Met Akinetos walking by the sea. 
At sight of him the Father of the Hours 
Paused on the sand, — which shrank, grew moist, and trembled 
At that unwonted pressure of the God. 
And thus with look and accent stern, he spake. 

" Thou art the mortal who, with hand unmoved, 
Eatest the fruit of others' toil ; whose heart 



124 ORION. 

Is but a vital engine that conveys 

Blood, to no purpose, up and down thy frame ; 

Whose forehead is a large stone sepulchre 

Of knowledge ; and whose life but turns to waste 

My measured hours, and earth's material!" 

Whereto the Great Unmoved no answer made, 
And Time continued, sterner than before. 
" Thy sire, Tithonos, living nine score years, 
Knew many things ; but when thou w'ert begot, 
Olympos chimed with crystal laughter bright, 
Since, for thy mother, his dim vision chose 
A fallen statue which he deemed a nymph, 
White as a flint amid a field of corn. 
I warn thee by that memory ! — thou mistakest 
A prostrate stone for the fair truth of life." 

Whereto the Great Unmoved no answer made, 
And Time continued, sterner than before. 
" O, not-to-be-approved ! thou Apathy, 
Who gazest downward on that empty shell, — 
Is it for thee who bear'st the common lot 
Of man, and art his brother in the fields, 
From birth to funeral pyre ; is it for thee, 






CANTO in.] ORION. 125 

Who didst derive from thy long-living sire 
More knowledge than endows far better sons, — 
Thy lamp to burn within, and turn aside 
Thy face from all humanity, or behold it 
Without emotion, like some sea-shelled thing 
Staring around from a green hollowed rock, 
Not aiding, loving, caring — hoping aught — 
Forgetting nature, and by her forgot." 

Whereto, with mildness, Akinetos said, 
" Hast thou considered of Eternity ?" 
" Profoundly have I done so, in my youth ;" 
Chronos replied, and bowed his furrowed head ; 
" Most, when my tender feet from Chaos trod 
Stumbling, — and, doubtful of mine eyes, my hands 
The dazzling air explored. But, since that date, 
So many ages have I told ; so many, 
Fleet after fleet on newly opening seas, 
Descry before me, that of late my thoughts 
Have rather dwelt on all around my path, 
With anxious care. Well were it thus with thee." 

Then Akinetos calmly spake once more, 
With eyes still bent upon the tide-ribbed sands. 



126 ORION. [book in. 

" And dost thou of Tomorrow also think ?" 
Whereat — as one dismayed by sudden thought 
Of many crowding things that call him thence, — 
Time, with bent brows, went hurrying on his way. 

Slow towards his cave the Great Unmoved repaired, 
And, with his back against the rock, sat down 
Outside, half smiling in the pleasant air ; 
And in the lonely silence of the place, 
He thus, at length, discoursed unto himself, 

" Orion, ever active and at work, 
Honest and skilful, not to be surpassed, 
Brought misery on himself and those he loved ; 
Caused his companions' death, — and now hath found 
At Artemis' hand, his own. So fares it ever 
With the world's builder. He, from wall to beam, 
From pillar to roof, from shade to corporal form ; 
From the first vague Thought to the Temple vast, 
A ceaseless contest with the crowd endures, 
For whom he labours. Why then" should we move ? 
Our wisdom cannot change whate'er 's decreed, 
Nor e'en the acts or thoughts of brainless men : 
Why then be moved ? Best reason is most vain. 



CANTO III] ORION. 127 

He who will do and suffer, must — and end. 

Hence, death is not an evil, since it leads 

To somewhat permanent, beyond the noise 

Man maketh on the tabor of his will, 

Until the small round burst, and pale he falls. 

His ear is stuffed with the grave's earth, yet feels 

The inaudible whispers of Eternity, 

While Time runs shouting to Oblivion 

In the upper fields. I would not swell that cry.'* 



Thus Akinetos sat from day to day, 
Absorbed in indolent sublimity, 
Reviewing thoughts and knowledge o'er and o'er ; 
And now he spake, now sung unto himself, 
Now sank to brooding silence. From above, 
While passing, Time the rock touched ! — and it oozed 
Petrific drops — gently at first — and slow. 
Reclining lonely in his fixt repose, 
The Great Unmoved unconsciously became 
Attached to that he pressed ; and soon a part 
Of the rock. There clung the excrescence, till strong hands, 
Descended from Orion, made large roads, 
And built steep walls, squaring down rocks for use. 
k 2 



128 ORION. [book hi. 

Now had Poseidon with tridental spear 
Torn up the smitten sea, which raged on high 
With grief and anger for Orion slain ; 
And black Hephaestos deep beneath the earth 
A cold thrill felt through his metallic veins, 
Which soon with sparkling fire began to writhe 
Like serpents, till from each volcanic peak 
Burst smoke and threatening flames. Day hid his head, 
And while the body of Orion sunk, 
Drawn down into the embraces of the sea, 
The four Winds with confronting fury arose, 
And to a common centre drove their blasts, 
Which, meeting, brake like thunder-stone, or shells 
Of war, far scattering. Shipwreck fed the deep. 
No moon had dared the ringing vault to climb ; 
No star, no meteor's steed ; and ancient Night 
Shook the dishevelled lightning from her brows, 
Then sank in deeper gloom. Ere long the roar 
Rolled through a distant yawning chasm of flame, 
Dying away, and in the air obscure, 
Feverish and trembling, — like the breath of one 
Recovering from convulsion's throes, — appeared 
Two wavering misty shapes upon a mount : 
Whence now a solemn and reproachful voice, 
With broken pauses spake, and thus lamented. 



CANTO III.] ORION. 129 

" Call it not love ! — oh never yet for thee 
Did Love's ambrosial pinions fan the hours, 
To lose themselves in bliss, which memory 
Alone can find, so to renew their life. 
Thou couldst not ever thus enjoy, thus give 
Thy nature fully up ; thine attributes, 
Whate'er of loveliness or high estate 
They owned, surrendering all before Love's feet, 
And in his breath to melt. How shall we name 
Thy passion, — ice-pure, self-entire, exacting 
All worship, for a limited return ? 
But how, ah me ! shall Time record the hour, 
When with thy bow — its points curved stiffly back, 
Like a snake's neck preparing for a spring, 
Thou stood' st in lurid ire behind a cloud, 
And loosed the fatal shaft ! Where then was Love ? 
O Artemis ! O miserable Queen ! 
Call it pride, jealousy, revenge — self-love ; 
No other. Thou repliest not. Wherefore pride ? 
Thou gav'st thyself that wound, rejecting one 
Who to thee tendered all his nature ; noble, 
Though earth-born, as thou knew'st when first ye met, 
And thou not Zeus with a creator's power 
His being to re-make ? Thou answerest not. 
Why jealous, but because thou saw'st him happy^ 



130 ORION. [book in. 

Without thee, though cast off by thee. Then wherefore 

Destroy ? Revenge, the champion of self-love, 

Can make his well-known sign. O, horrible ! 

Despair to all springs up from murdered love, 

And smites revenge with idiotcy of grief, 

Seeing itself. But wake, and look upon 

My loss unutterable. What hast thou gained ? 

Nothing but anguish ; and for this accomplished 

His death, my loss, and the earth's loss beside 

Of that much needed hand. I curse thee not — 

Thou hast, indeed, cursed me — thou know'st it well." 

With face bowed o'er her bosom, Artemis, 
As in sad trance, remained. The night was gone ; 
The day had dawned, but she perceived it not ; 
Nor Eos knew that any light had passed 
From her rent robes. But hope unconsciously 
Grew up in her, and yet again she spake. 

" Ah, me ! alas ! why came this great affliction, 
Which, indeed, seems beyond all remedy, 
Though scalding tears from our immortal eyes 
Make constant arcs in heaven. Beauty avails not 
Where power is needed. Seek we, then, for power, 
That some reviving or renewing beam 



CANTO III.] ORION. 131 

May call him back, now pale in the deep sea. 
Thou answerest not. I think thou hast a heart, 
"Which beats thy reasoning down to silent truth, 
And therefore deem I thou with me wilt seek 
The throne of Zeus, who may receive our prayers, 
Nor from our supplications, utterly 
Take sorrow's sweetness, which hath secret hope, 
Like honey drops in some down-fallen flower." 

Her lofty pallid visage, Artemis 
Raised slowly, but with eyes still downward bent 
Upon the ocean rolling dark below, 
And answered, — " I will go with thee." The twain 
Departed heavily on their ascent 

Through the grey air, and paused not till they reached 
The region of Olympos, where their course 
Was barriered by a mass of angry cloud 
Piled up in surging blackness, with a gleam 
Of smouldering red seen through at intervals. 
The sign well understood, both Goddesses 
Knelt down before the cloud, and Artemis 
Broke silence first, with firm yet hollow voice. 

" Father of Gods, and of the populous earth ! 
Who know'st the thoughts and deeds we most would hide ; 



3 32 orion. 



[book in. 



And also know'st the secret thrill within, 

Which owns no thought nor action, yet comprises 

Life's sole excuse for what seems worthiest hate — 

Extremes and maddened self-opposing springs — 

Not always thus excused, — O Zeus ! receive 

Our prayers, and chiefly mine, which pardon sue, 

Besides the dear request. Grant that the life 

Of him these hands, once dazzling white, have slain, 

May bo to earth restored." More had she said, 

But the dark pile of cloud shook with the voice 

Of Zeus, who answered : "He shall be restored ; 

But not returned to earth. His cycle moves 

Ascending ! " The deep sea the announcement heard ; 

And from beneath its ever-shifting thrones, 

The murmuring of a solemn joy sent up. 

The cloud expanded darkly o'er the heavens, 
Which, like a vault preparing to give back 
The heroic dead, yawned with its sacred gloom, 
And iron-crowned Night her black breath poured around 
To meet the clouds that from Olympos rolled 
Billows of darkness with a dirging roar, 
Which by gradations of high harmony 
Merged in triumphal strains. Their earnest eyes 



canto in.] ORION. 133 

Filled with the darkness, and their hands still clasped, 

Kneeling the Goddesses bright rays perceived, 

Reflected, glance before them. Mute they rose 

With tender consciousness ; and, hand in hand, 

Turning, they saw slow rising from the sea 

The luminous Giant clad in blazing stars, 

New-born and trembling from their Maker's breath, — 

Divine, refulgent effluence of Love. 

Though to his insubstantial form no gleam 

Of mortal life's rich colours now gave warmth, 

Yet was the image he had worn on earth, 

With all its memories of the old dim woods — 

The caves — his toils, joys, griefs — the fond old ways— 

The same — his heart the same, e'en as of yore. 

With pale gold shield, like a translucent moon 

Through which the morning with ascending cheek 

Sheds a soft blush, warming cerulean veins ; 

With radiant belt of glory, typical 

Of happy change that o'er the zodiac round 

Of the world's monstrous phantasies shall come ; 

And in his hand a sword of peaceful power, 

Streaming like a meteor to direct the earth 

To victory over life's distress, and shew 

The future path whose light runs through death's glooms ; 



134 ORION. [book in. 

In grandeur, like the birth of Motion, rose 
The glorious Giant, tow'rds his place in heaven ; 
And, while ascending, thus his Spirit sung. 

" I came into the world a mortal creature, 
Lights flitting upwards through my unwrought clay, 
Not knowing what they were, nor whither tending, 
But of some goodness conscious in my soul. 
With earth's rude elements my first endeavour 
I made ; attained rare mastery, and was proud : 
Then felt strange longings in the grassy woodlands, 
And hunted shadows under the slant sun. 

" O Artemis ! bright queen ! high benefactress ! 
My love forgive, that with its human feet 
Could not to thy pure altitude ascend, 
Nor couldst thou stoop to me. A fiery passion, 
Deep as mortality, possessed my life ; 
Nor shall I from my destiny, star bright 
Henceforth, and from transforming change exempt, 
Banish the grateful thoughts of Merope, 
Though blindness followed that ecstatic dream." 

" On thee I gaze, blest Goddess of the Morning ! 
In whose sweet smile these stars shall ever melt, 



CANTO III.] ORION. 135 

All human beauty perfected in thee, 

Divine with human blending. In my heart 

Bared full before thee, to the essence fine 

Wherewith, by whisperings of my Maker's breath, 

These stars of my new life are now inspired — 

In this pure essence shall thy treasured love 

Receive my adoration ; and the thoughts 

Of thee shall open ever in my mind 

Like the bland meads in flower when thou appear'st." 

"Thou Earth, whom I have left, and all my brothers! 
Followers of Time through steep and thorny ways ; 
Wrestlers with strong Calamity, and falling 
For ever, as with generations new 
Ye carry on the strife, — deem it no loss 
That in full vigour of his fresh designs, 
Your Worker and your Builder hath been called 
To rest thus undesired. Though for himself 
Too soon, and not enough of labour done 
For high desires ; sufficient yet to give 
The impulse ye are fitted to receive : 
More, were a vain ambition. Therefore strive, 
My course, without its blindness, to pursue, 
So that ye may through night, as ye behold me, 
And also through the day by faithful hope, 



136 ORION. [book in 

Ascend to me ; and he who faints half-way, 

Gains yet a noble eminence o'er those 

Whose feet still plod the earth with hearts o'erdusted." 

" Then with aspiring love behold Orion ! 
Not for his need, but for thine own behoof: 
He loved thy race, and calls thee to his side. 
The human spirit is a mounting thing, 
But ere it reach the constellated thrones, 
It may attain, and on mankind bestow, 
Substance, precision, mastery of hand, 
Beauty intense, and power that shapes new life. 
So shall each honest heart become a champion, 
Each high-wrought soul a builder beyond Time — 
The ever-hunted, ne'er o'ertaken Time, 
For whom so many youthful hours are slain. 
Vainly : the grave's brink shews we have been deceived, 
And still the aged God his flight maintains ! 
But not in vain the earth-born shall pursue, 
E'en though with wayward, often stumbling feet, 
That substance-bearing Shadow, if with a soul 
That to an absolute unadulterate truth 
Aspires, and would make active through the world, 
He hath resolved to plant for future years. 
And thus, in the end, each soul may to itself, 












canto in.] ORION. 13] 

With truth before it as its polar guide, 
Become both Time and Nature, whose fixt paths 
Are spiral, and when lost will find new stars, 
And in the Universal Movement join." 

The song ceased ; and at once a chorus burst 
From all the stars in heaven, which now shone forth ! 
The Moon ascends in her 'rapt loveliness ; 
The Ocean swells to her forgivingly ; 
Bright comes the dawn, and Eos hides her face, 
Glowing with tears divine, within the bosom 
Of great Poseidon, in his rocking car 
Standing erect to gaze upon his son, 
Installed 'midst golden fires, which ever melt 
In Eos' breath and beauty ; rising still 
With nightly brilliance, merging in the dawn, 
And circling onward in eternal youth. 







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SPENSER'S FAERIE QUEEN 

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GREGORY THE SEVENTH; 

A Tragedy, with an Essay on Tragic Influence, by R. H. Horne, author 
of "Cosmo de' Medici ;" "The Death of Marlowe," &c; published (1840) 
at 5s.-; reduced to 2s. 6d. 

" Mr. Horne is unlucky not to have lived in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. His dramas 
then would have been acted. And they now might have been reprinted with notes and 
illustrations. No critic, in that case, would have objected that his language was so like 
that of the old dramatists ; the critic would only have admired." — Statesman. 

" There are finer things to be found in his writings than in any dramatist since the age 
of Elizabeth. His ' Gregory VII.' will live among the best dramas, so long as dramatic 
literature shall exist in England. Its success will be slow, but it will be indestructible." — 
Monthly Chronicle. 

"It is mighty and overwhelming. The destiny of empires, the assumption of thrones, 
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completely than the present, when successive criticisms shall have revealed, discussed, 
and determined its claims. We regard it as the noblest production of its class that has 
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" We have a grand whole before us ; the work of an Artist." — Monthly Review. 

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"Mr. R. H. Home's noble dramas are not the mere wordy imitations of the elder 
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patrons." — Tomlins' Brief View of the Drama. 

SELECTIONS FROM THE WORKS OF DR. DONNE; 

Elegantly printed, 18mo., cloth, gilt, 2s. 6d. 1840 



ADVERTISEMENTS. 

SCHLEGEL'S LECTURES 

On Dramatic Art and Literature ; translated from the original German, by 

John Black, with an Introduction, by R. H. Horne. Second Edition. 

2 vols. 8vo. 125. 

"We consider these Dramatic Lectures every way worthy of that individual whom 
Germany venerates as the second, and whom Europe has classed among the most illus- 
trious of her characters." — Quarterly Review. 

LAMB'S (CHARLES) PROSE AND POETICAL WORKS, 

Including his Essays of Elia (both Series), Rosamond Gray, Tales from 
Shakspere, Poems, Sonnets, John Woodvil, a Tragedy, &c. &c, 5 vols, post 
8vo., handsomely printed (published at 21. 5s.), in extra cloth, boards, 15s. 1838 

'This is the only edition printed uniformly with the small editions of Scott, Byron, 
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GERMAN LITERATURE, 

By Wolfgang Menzel ; translated from the German, with Notes by Thomas 

Gorden; elegantly printed, in 4 vols, post 8vo., cloth, 145. 6d. 1840 

" The name of Wolfgang Menzel is now become familiar to the British public, as 
that of an acute and searching critic. His ' German Literature ' is, or ought to be, well 
known to every student of German : comprising, within the space of four small volumes, 
a panorama of all the principal tendencies and characteristics of one of the most 
voluminous literatures of Europe." — Extract from Translator's Preface. 

FUSELI'S LIFE, LECTURES ON PAINTING, &c. ; 

The former written, the latter edited, by John Knowles, Esq., F.R.S., 3 vols. 
8vo., handsomely printed, with fine portrait after Harlow, cloth, 12s. 6d. 1831 

" Fuseli's Lectures have been stamped as the noblest criticism extant on art." — New 






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By William Wordsworth, Leigh Hunt, R. H. Horne, Miss E. B. Barrett, 
2. A. Z., Thomas Powell, Robert Bell ; with a Life by Dr. Leonhard 
Schmitz, and an Introduction by R. H. Horne. 1 vol. 8vo. Reduced 
to 4.?. 6d. 1840 

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